


Don't Die on Me and I Won't Die on You

by wutthequiznack (birbsandemidogs04)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Half-Siblings, M/M, More characters to come, Slow Burn, Swearing, cursing, decker au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-07-07 20:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 29,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15915885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birbsandemidogs04/pseuds/wutthequiznack
Summary: Keith Kogane is going to die today. He's only eighteen, and there are so many things he hasn't gotten to do yet. Afraid of rejection, he's been alone in the year after his brother fell into a coma, looking after himself and occasionally visiting the hospital to see his only remaining family. Trust issues have impaired him for too long. How is he supposed to force himself to trust a stranger for a mere day?Lance McClain is going to die today. He's only seventeen and has a huge family and an amazing squad but also tons of questions rattling around in his brain. He needs something new, someone who hadn't known him forever.They both find the Last Friend App.





	1. --keith.

**Author's Note:**

> I both loved and hated "They Both Die at the End". The concept of Deckers is so interesting to me and I couldn't help but dream this up. Probably will update periodically, will try to get chapters in by the end of each week -- school is back in session and it's pretty crazy. I will try my best to update on my spares! Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> I do not own either "They Both Die at the End" or Voltron: Legendary Defender. Those rights go to Adam Silvera and Dreamworks, respectively.

I get the text at midnight. All it says in the blue blob is, _Keith Kogane, sorry to lose you today._

That's all I get, huh. I've never really been one to take for granted what I get, but come on. That's the most impersonal way ever to tell someone they're going to die in less than 24 hours.

Anyway, my reaction is lacking. It doesn't seem to sink in, really. I only feel a bit of fear - but mainly, it's a fear for Shiro.

Shiro's been in hospital for the past eight months in a coma because he lost his arm in a car crash. The doctors told me the bleeding was so much that it could take a pretty long time to recover, but that he will at some point. I try to visit him as long as I can - I hate hospitals, but I owe this to him. Shiro's looked after me since I was a baby. Technically he's not even my full brother - he's just half; he's the spitting image of my dad - but he takes care of me as if we were full family. I miss him more than I could ever admit. I miss him nagging me to eat, or to bring things I'll need with me places, and I get angry at myself for taking all that for granted.

It's not likely Shiro will wake up before today is done. Will he ever see me again?  
Thinking of his reaction from waking up and immediately being told his little brother is dead makes me feel sick.

I look down at my phone again, and see that there's another text from the stupid death service. _Please do not hesitate to contact us here at DeathCast if you are in need of therapy or want to arrange your funeral. Or be sure to check out the Last Friend app, for that last companionship you could have for the rest of your life. You will be missed._

In return, I send a simple three-word, lowercase text as part of my last-day rebellion: _fuck you, deathcast._


	2. --lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter up cuz I'm a softy

I'm in the kitchen in the middle of a taco at 2 in the morning when I get a ding on my phone. Thinking it's my friend Hunk, I pull it out and check, but sick shock floods my system as I see the header: it's from DeathCast.

What the _fuck_?

With shaking taco hands I slide the bar and see the text for real. _Lance McClain, sorry to lose you today._

No, this can't be right. I can't be dying today. There has to be some mistake.

At this moment, my sister Veronica walks into the kitchen. I almost don't even see her. My lips are dry. I feel sick. I kind of regret eating that taco as a midnight snack.

"Can't sleep either, huh?" Veronica says. I watch her start to make a peanut butter jelly sandwich. Veronica always reminds me of mamá, they look almost the same, and Veronica also treats me like a baby the way mama does. She's six years older, but we've always been pretty tight.

"Hey, chatty Cathy - what's up? You're not talking."

"Huh?" I ask. I was staring into space. I guess this is shock. "Sorry."  
How do I tell her I got the text?

Veronica sits next to me and takes a bite of her sandwich. "Nah, it's fine. Just making sure you're ok."

Am I though?

"Um, Nicki…" I start to say, but then I stop myself. I can't tell her. Not now, anyway.

But I've already got her attention. "Yeah?"

"Uh, I forgot what I was going to say."

Veronica turns back to her sandwich, finishing the last bite. "Ah, that's better."  
She looks back at me. "Don't be weird, ok? Just go back to bed and go to sleep. Night, kid."

I shrug. She definitely picked something up. "Thanks… night, sis."

Now what am I going to do?


	3. --keith.

I'm still in denial an hour after I get the text.

I stay in my shack - take a shower, get dressed, sit around bored, reread the texts Shiro and I exchanged before he set off for work the day he lost his arm. Normal stuff I do on a good day. Only this time, it's pretty subconscious, like I don't even know I'm doing it. Besides, it's not a good day.

DeathCast hasn't responded to my text. Cowards. Bastards. I think I would've preferred not knowing I was going to die today. Then I wouldn't be sitting here fucking waiting for it.

Thinking about it all gets to me. I steam. My face gets hot. The nerve of them - how dare they. How do they know me? How do they even know I'm going to die, anyway? It could be a prank. Some kind of sick hacker joke.

But what if it's not?

Immediately I think of Shiro. I need to visit him today anyway, so if I die at least I'll have seen him and gotten some closure.

But what do I do until it's the hospital visiting hours?

I think back to the second text DeathCast sent me, the one with that friend website on it. It's a bad idea - especially for me, the least socially skilled person I've ever met. Besides, what if this friend lies and is actually the one who kills you, so that if you'd never met them, then you wouldn't have died? The thought makes me shudder, but then I think about the probability of that happening. I mean, usually you can tell when there's something off about a person from their social media page or their chats, so if there were any red flags and you didn't notice them, it would be your own fault you got killed because you're the fucking densest person ever.

I'm pretty dense, actually.

You know what? What fucking ever. I don't care. I need this. I need to have someone, someone conscious, to spend today with.

I grab the Last Friend app off the store and open it, creating an account with my spam email account, the one with the obscure email so I never have to see any spam. Shiro taught me that trick.

My account is hard to make. The bot asks me lots of personal things: my age, my family, my interests, my performance in school, stuff like that. I'm not sure if I want to answer most of the questions it asks me. One of the only things I know for certain from among the questions is my sexuality: definitely, undeniably gay. There is no fucking way I'm not.

After I finish my meager profile, I sit back to look at it.

**Name:** _Keith_

**Age:** _18_

**Nationality:** Korean, Texan

**I live in…** _Texas_

**Family _-_**

**Mother:** _Dead_

**Father:** _Dead._

**Siblings?**

_Brother Shiro, older by seven years._

**Interests and Hobbies:** whittling, combat, martial arts, knife-wielding

 **Sexuality:** homosexual

 **Favourite Band:** Spandau Ballet

**Favourite song:** _Owner of a Lonely Heart by Yes._

**General Info:** _Decker? Y✓ / N_

As a last paragraph to appeal to others, I write:

"I'm not really good at these kinds of things, but I hope I find a Last Friend to make both our last days better."

Ugh, it's horrible.

I sit back and post it before I can think about it, and get up to get myself a glass of water.

By the time I get back, I have a notification.


	4. --lance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I can't stop posting chapters

It's three A.M. I must've eaten like ten more tacos since I found out I'm dying today. Now I'm gassy, scared and about to throw up. What a time to be alive. Not.

I'm shaking as I read over the text about a hundred more times. How? How is it possible? I'm only seventeen - what could happen to me?

My eyes reach the next text underneath, the one they sent a little bit after the first. It's the one that tells you if you need any support or therapy, here's the person to go to, and stuff about the Last Friend app. I remember it from the time one of my cousins got the text. He died when he was twenty one from an accidental shooting.

I shudder to think about Emilio's death, which happened even after he'd been so careful to avoid it. He got nailed because some stupid kid was playing around with a gun and it hit Emilio in the heart. He was dead on impact.

My family is still mourning Emilio, and this happened when I was twelve, over five years ago. What'll happen when I die?

I know my parents will freak. This isn't anything they've ever had to deal with before. They have four other kids apart from me, and not one of them has ever gotten the text. I'm the first, I guess.   
I'm also the youngest. The others all look out for me, make sure I'm safe. My throat closes up a little at the thought of them not having a pequeño anymore.

 _Hermano pequeño._ Little brother. Baby brother. It always makes me feel safe when they call me that. When Mamá holds me in her arms and I can smell her perfume - gardenias and ocean spray. Or when Veronica or my brothers and I play tag or stupid childhood games because we can. Or when we all have a picnic, the whole family, even Dad, who's always busy with work stuff.

I'll never have any of that again after today. It would be stupid of me to get a Last Friend, when I have my family right here. Still, the temptation to have something to get my mind off my death is there.

I sigh and go to the play store, finding and downloading the app in seconds. I click on the app from my home screen, gaze flicking across the screen. It's asking me some personal questions, which I answer without hesitating. What's the point of stranger danger or anything like that when you're going to die anyway?

 **Name:** _Lance McClain_

 **Age:** _17_

 **Nationality:** _Cuban_

 **I live in…** _Cuba_

**Family -**

**Mother**

**Father**

**Siblings?**

_Four siblings; 2 brothers and 2 sisters_

**Interests and Hobbies:** _knitting, singing, swimming, shopping_

 **Sexuality:** _decline to state_

 **Favourite Band:** _DNCE_

 **Favourite song:** _Gasolina - Daddy Yankee_

 **Decker?** Y✔ / N

_Hi, guys! I'm Lance. I really want to spend my last day having fun. I'm a leo, what can I say. Hit me up if you're a teen Decker wanting to spend a last fun day on Earth too._

I scan over my profile real quick and smile before posting. I think it's pretty good. It definitely fits me pretty well.

After I save and post it, the screen throws another person's profile at me, like this is some kind of tinder. Only difference is there's only an option to message the person.

This one is a guy with long, fabulous purple hair in a ponytail, and intense eyes. He's pretty ripped but not like one of those guys who takes their shirt off to show it - this guy's wearing hipster clothes. Apparently his name is Lotor (some kinda D&D shit) and he's eighteen. I shrug and push the button to DM him. It's now or never, right? And if I get a serial killer vibe from his DMs, then it's over.

 _Hey, man. What's up?_ A simple, cleanly worded text. Not bad.

He seems to respond right away. I guess he's got nothing better to do at one in the morning today either. Wait - he's probably in another time zone.

_Hello, fellow Decker. Thank you for reaching out to me. I have had a trying time with coming to terms with my death, although I suppose all of us must die sooner or later. For us, it seems - sooner than later. How have you been faring?_

I read and re-read his text. Wow. What a dweeb. I wonder where he's from. The way he's speaking reminds me of a telenovela I saw once - it was like a rip-off Coronation Street, even down to the music. All the actors were trying to do English accents and failing miserably. Their vocabulary reminds me of Lotor's - kind of fake, but then again you can't tell. I'm starting to get bored with him.

I leave the page to check out his profile and determine that he is indeed English. Where he's from - some place in London. I thought so.

I go back to the DMs and type a brief reply.

_Ive been fine. I guess I'm in denial? I don't know. I haven't told anyone in my fam yet. Hbu? I dunno if they'll be able to handle it. We're pretty tight. Anyway, I've probably eaten like fifteen tacos since I found out and I think I'm dying already. Lol._

Nice. It's kind of obnoxious, really. I cringe reading it back. But sometimes you have to send a subtle "fuck off".

Lotor responds with this: _I do not speak to my family much. I doubt they would care if I died. My parents are far too consumed with themselves than with me. If you will excuse me, I must go. My significant other is at my door, I promised her I would tell her what is going on with me. Thank you for the chat, my friend, and godspeed._

Wow. What a _dweeb_!

 _Significant other_? _Godspeed_?! What the fuck is this guy on?! Somehow I feel I've been mocked.

I guess it's over with him, then. Kind of relieved, to be honest. Sad his parents suck, but relieved I don't have to talk to him anymore. I wonder what his girlfriend even sees in him.

I return to the main menu, bored. By now it's half-past-one and I'm not even tired.

The next profile is thrown at me pretty quickly. This one is some kind of goth kid. No - emo. He's chillin with a black mullet and - I have to admit - really pretty blue eyes. His skin is extremely pale but creamy - nice. He's wearing fingerless gloves, and a red jacket over a black shirt. He's looks like he shops at Spencer's. Or Hot Topic.

Still, something about him is making me want to DM him. His name is Keith, and he's eighteen, like Lotor. Maybe he'll be less dweebish?

I open the DMs and type a message.

_Wassup? Names Lance._

Now to wait.


	5. --keith.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna post as many of these as I can initially before I get backed up with schoolwork

_Wassup? Names Lance._

I consider replying for a second, but then I decide I should probably check out this guy's profile before I text him back. I tap on his little icon, which I can just make out is a cartoony shark. It takes me back to his main profile. I study the profile pic intently, this one of him. He's cute. He's got mocha coloured skin and brown eyes - a cocky expression on his face. Some part of me is attracted to him, so I scan the rest of his profile.

Turns out he's seventeen, Cuban and a leo. Seems safe. I don't smell any catfishing going on, so I pull up my DMs again and start to type.

_Hey. I'm Keith._

I can't think of anything else to write so I leave it at that. Simple but effective.

Lance texts back right away. _Ik. so whats ur deal... u emo?_

I think about that for a second. I kind of am emo, but I don't listen to the right music. I like Sara Bareilles and upbeat pop songs - though I'd never tell anyone - whereas emos listen to Panic! At the Disco or Fall Out Boy.

_I guess? I don't listen to the right music_

_The right music? lmao depends on what u think is emo music_

I smile at that. He's right. _Would you consider Sara Bareilles emo music?_ I type.

_no, but she's fucking awesome._

Wow. I've never actually met another person - let alone guy - who likes Sara's music. I feel a twinge in my heart. I already like this guy.

_THANK YOU. it's like nobody else seems to think so._

_Yeah, we dont deserve her or her songs._

I spare a smirk and decide to take a risk. _By chance do you like Beyonce??_

The reply I get is instant, with so many uppercase letters I almost go blind when I first read it. _OMGGG BOI I COULD TELL U STORIES_

_Does that mean yes?_

_faUck yes my man._

I grin and actually laugh. It's thrilling to be talking to another teenager like this, one who gets me so far and who I'm starting to like. I want to find out more about him.

 _Is she actually the Queen of the Illuminati?_ I text, to keep his attention.

_u better fuckin bet she is. Bey is the Queen of everything._

I kind of want to steer the conversation away from Beyonce at this point. I'm curious about Lance, and admittedly, I don't know that much about Beyonce.

_sooo, do you actually live in Cuba or…?_

_nah, I just wrote that so id sound interesting. I live in Cali. The rest of my family lives in Cuba tho_

_oh. I live in Texas._

_cool!! do u have an accent?_

I have to laugh at this, remembering when I was younger and I would watch cowboy movies, wishing that I had an accent.

_sorry, no. I was born in South Korea and emigrated when I was little. Didn't have time to develop an accent + I'm not in the part of Tex where u can get one._

Lance's response comes after a couple of minutes. I wait the whole time staring at my phone, nerves building up. It's stupid, but I can't help worrying whether he's given up on me already. Was the text too long? Was I not fast enough? Is he already bored? The thing I'm most afraid of is another person leaving me alone. I've become too attached to this guy too soon.

When his next message comes, it's even longer than mine. My relief floods in and I exhale in the empty silence of my house. It reminds me just how big and lonely this place is without Shiro -- I am able to make all the noise in the world without him telling me off, but I find I don't want to. I look down at my phone before I can let myself get depressed again.

_well s Korea is cool too. whats it like? do u remember it? can u speak Korean? I can speak spanish but i suck at it lol. Korean seems like a rlly hard language to learn._

I squint. I can speak a little bit of Korean, but only because Shiro makes me practice. Well, used to. He was raised speaking Japanese, himself, but he'd always made sure I kept my Korean up because my mom was from there. I couldn't care less -- she backed out of my life when I was little.

_I don't really remember it that well. I know a few words. My brother used to make me practice every day._

As soon as I hit send, I wonder if I've made a mistake. Is that too personal? Should I even tell him what happened to Shiro?

But then again, if he's my last friend, it won't matter.

_oh yea i get wat ur saying. my sis used to make me watch tv in spanish.kinda ruined tv for me after awhile._

I smile. Man, I really like him. 


	6. --lance.

Keith and I have been texting back and forth about surface-level shit for about a half-hour. By now it's four in the morning and I'm getting to like this guy already.

_wats ur bros name??_

Keith's responses, like always, are quick and to the point. _Takashi, but I call him Shiro._

 _ah, cool. I have 2 bros. any sisters?_ I type back.

I didn't really check his profile in detail before I DM'd him. Besides, asking people questions and hearing their answers instead of surfing over their generated profile allows you to get that much closer to them.

I check the clock on the left wall. It's 4:30 now. Time is flying by quickly. Thank goodness it's summer. I couldn't take having to go to school and then dying.

I wonder if Keith has any school. He's 18, so he's probably going to be in college soon. Or is he already in college? Does he even go to college at all? He doesn't look like the kind of person who would study -- neither am I.

His text comes then, calling my attention back to the screen.

_Nope. No sisters. But you have 2 right?_

I grin. He read my profile, then.

_yup. Veronica's older by 6 yrs and Rachel's my twin._

_Lucky. You the youngest?_

_well technically me and Rachel. but yea._  
I've talked enough about myself. I'm curious about this guy. He hasn't told me enough about what he's like. I quickly add, _so tell me abt Shiro. what's he like_

It doesn't take long for Keith to text back. I wait for him to respond, opening up Candy Crush to try and beat level 98.

His text pops up in a little notification ribbon over the candy. I tap it.

_He's a good big brother. He's kind of my hero. He's all I've got really._

That makes me smile. I feel the same way about Veronica. I've looked up to her since I was little.   
_i feel the same abt my sis Veronica. but shes soooo gross w her new boo ugh i cant be around them lol theyre always making out_

Yeah, I like Nicki's new gf, she treats my sister right, but they're all about that PDA.

I wonder if Shiro has a boo that Keith feels this way about. 


	7. --keith.

Lance's text about his sister's new partner reminds me of Shiro's ex-fiancé. I'd loved Adam. He'd made Shiro happy, plus he could cook like nobody's business - when he found out how much I liked fast food, he started making his own version of it. It tasted like the real thing but was 100 % healthier. I had no idea how he did that.

Shiro and him had been so happy together.

Then Shiro fell into the coma.

At first Adam had come over every day, bringing flowers to the hospital and stuff. He'd bring me food and make sure I was ok. I think he'd thought the coma would only last a few days, or even a few weeks, like I had. That Shiro would just come back and everything would be fine again.

But he didn't. Months passed. I think it was because of everything happening so soon, but also because Shiro being in a coma was a consequence of him risking his life and Adam didn't like that -- Adam stopped coming to visit Shiro. Maybe he just couldn't take seeing the love of his life in a coma or something. I don't know. He still brings me food sometimes, and sends the occasional text, but he really doesn't come to see Shiro anymore. I guess he's trying to move on.

I was mad at him when he'd first stopped visiting Shiro. I didn't get why he wasn't coming anymore. Now I sort of get it better.

But thinking of Adam reminds me that I can technically text him. Besides Shiro, Adam is probably the best living person I can give my stuff to, make sure he takes care of the house with both Shiro and me gone. Maybe he'll even start visiting Shiro again, if not for him, for me.

It makes me depressed to think that the reason I'm texting him is because I'll probably be dead before midnight.

I still have to do it.

I look down at my phone. The screen has faded to black. I punch in my passcode and open to my texts with Lance. I forgot to respond -- it's been five minutes already.

Shit, it's already 5 in the morning. I've wasted 5 whole fucking hours of my death day.

There's an additional text blurb underneath the one about his sister:  
 _Keith? u good? not dead rite?_

My heart rushes at his concern.

 _yeah, fine. Just was thinking about death and, you know. Lost in thought._ I type back hurriedly.

_yup. cant start doing that now. it's gonna happen mah dude._

I shake my head. Why does Lance have to die? I've been chatting with him for only a couple of hours and yet he's so good I can't stand it. He's already one of the only people in the world to actually care about my wellbeing.

_I know. I was also thinking about Shiro's fiancé. Adam._

Lance's text comes all too fast after that.  
 _ooh do tell_

 _He was great. I really liked him and he made Shiro happy, which was most important to me. + He cooked really good food_.

_lol. but y do u talk abt him like he's dead. he isnt dead is he_

_No._  
I hesitate. I can't tell him what happened to Adam without telling him Shiro's accident.   
_He and Shiro didn't work out._  

 _aww thats a bummer._ Lance texts. _hey listen. umm do u wanna meet up/some thing? like this is nice but id love to meet up in person_

My eyes widen. That was fast. _when + where?_ I type immediately. 


	8. --lance.

I don't know what makes me ask Keith to meet up. I guess something in my gut wants to. I know I want to meet him. But then the text is sent and I wonder if I should have sent it so soon.

First of all, I just met Keith three hours ago, really. We don't know the first thing about each other. I or he could be a serial killer, for all each other knows.

Second of all, what about my family? What about my friends? I haven't told anybody else I'm dying today. My main issue is that I don't know how to tell them, but then they'll want to spend the entire day with me. Of course, I want to spend the day with my family, but I know it'll be a day of crying and misery, and I don't want that. My friends -- same thing. Hunk will probably weep while making me my favourite foods (he's the best cook I know) and Pidge just lost her aunt so I'm not sure how she'd take the news.

But when I look back down at my phone, I see that Keith's already texted me back.  
_when + where?_

Well, I guess it's too late. I sigh.

_hang on. i havent told my fam yet -- i should wait till they wake up & tell them 1st._

I send it, and hesitate, something else on my mind.

 _but wait, how far away is tex from cali??_ I send next.

Switching to google, I look it up.

The next text I get from Keith flashes at the top of the screen as I get bombarded with Decker ads.  
_Dunno. Hang on, I'll look it up_

I look back down at the page alolnd see a bunch of ads for Decker Discounts -- discounted flights and stuff. If you're dying, you only pay half-price. Like that makes me feel any better. It won't matter anyway, since I'm probably not going to college if I'm dying. I can just dip into my college fund if I want. But I want most of it to go to my siblings, niece and nephew. I shudder to think of that right now.

I thumb through the search results and click on a random website that has time conversions for if you're walking, flying, or driving to a different state. It doesn't take long for me to find out it takes 2 hours to go from Texas to Cali or the other way. That's not bad.

I text Keith the results at the same time as he sends his to me.

 _lol_ I send. _sooooo wat does this mean… u gonna come to me orrrr wat_


	9. --keith.

_sooooo wat does this mean… u gonna come to me orrrr wat_

I've been thinking about that, myself. It's just occured to me that I need to start planning what I'm going to do with the last hours of my life. In a sense, I'm lucky I don't have many people in my life to have to break the news to, but I do still have Adam. I feel like I owe that to him. He took care of me when I couldn't do it myself.

I really want to meet up with Lance -- it almost scares me how much I want to. I've never felt this way about a stranger. Usually I'm wary of strangers because of all my abandonment issues. But some part of me feels like I can trust Lance, with my life, even. Well, I'm going to have to if I meet him in person. I'm also terrible at reading people, so if he's a crazy ax murderer, I have no idea.

I look down at my phone again to respond, _I don't know. I need to visit my brother's fiancé first and tell him im dying before I do anything else. Plus I have to go see my brother. Ill try to be done before noon._

I glance at the clock on the wall, the one Shiro had picked out that I thought was boring at first but now I love. It's only 5:20.

Adam will probably be up this early anyway. He has an early morning class to teach, if I remember correctly. He does summer school too -- he's always been a really dedicated teacher, and he loves history so he made it actually interesting to learn. I had him in high school. That's how he met Shiro.

I still remember exactly where Adam lives. He lives in a nice part of town, a real nice little house with a big kitchen, and he loved it. Shiro loved it there too. I think he'd been planning to move in to that house with Adam when they got married. I would have loved to move in there with them.

I could probably walk there now and get there in 20 minutes or so. Yeah. That's what I'll do.

I grab my Swiss Army knife and my keys from the kitchen table where I'd been sitting, open the front door and leave the house. 


	10. --lance.

Keith texts me saying he's got to say goodbye to his brother and his brother's fiancé, which I'm sort of relieved about, honestly. It kind of gives me some time to sort out what I'm going to do here.

It's 5:30. I text back, _ok. txt me back when u r done_

Then I turn off my phone and sit there at the kitchen table for a couple of minutes, thinking. My family's all still asleep -- we're not really the type to get up early. We sort of gauge our waking time in the summer to whenever the youngest decide to greet us with their energy, which is usually 7 at the earliest. I'm wondering if I should wake them up at all.

Mama, I know, needs the rest. Her job is so stressful but we need the money. Veronica, Luis and Marco work too, and so does Luis' wife Lisa, but our family is big so we need everyone to pitch in. Dad has a job too, a comfortable one, and sometimes Rachel and I get odd jobs babysitting for neighbours or mowing the lawn, stuff like that. I think as a last act of compassion to Mama I should let her sleep in.

But then my brain turns against me. If Mama wakes up and finds out I'm dead, she's never going to forgive herself. She's probably going to end up depressed and even more stressed because she wasn't there.

This is the hardest decision I've ever had to make.

And what about Hunk and Pidge? Should I even tell them?

After a while I decide telling Hunk and Pidge first would probably be the best move. I'll have to wake Hunk up but Pidge will probably already be awake, studying for finals even though they come next June. God. I won't be able to ever tease her about staying up too late again.

Desperately I distract myself with the previous thought again -- Hunk and Pidge. Don't think about death. I kind of wish I didn't know I was dying today. This is so stressful. My wave of anxiety is passing but still, there's that lingering fear. That tension in the back of my mind. _You're dying today, and you don't even know how._

I quickly return to that train of thought without even trying to.

There are so many things I haven't gotten to do.

I haven't ever sky-dived.

I haven't gone to college.

I haven't had a prom.

I haven't learnt to ice skate.

I haven't tried sushi.

I will never be able to be a pilot, which I've always wanted to be.

I haven't had a first kiss.

I don't even really know who I am yet.

And I'm dying.

What the _fuck._

I end up calling Hunk and Pidge on Skype at the beach across the street, sitting in the sand in my jeans and bawling.


	11. --keith.

In retrospect, walking to Adam's house, _crossing streets, where cars drive_ is not the best move on the day I'm certainly going to die.

Somehow, I make it to his porch in one piece.

As I'm walking up to the front door I admire the outside again, this time possibly for the last time ever. It's such a cozy little house at the end of a block of even more cozy houses, with a thatched white roof and a chimney on top that doesn't spout smoke. The exterior of the house is painted a light and cheerful yellow, which surprisingly never made my eyes bleed even though I prefer black and grey. It's a subtle, pale yellow that complements the house well, I think. The front door and porch are white. Shiro always used to say the house was "inviting". Now, especially on my last day, I couldn't agree more.

I exhale deeply and walk quickly up the stairs. Subconsciously I try to keep my footfalls light, maybe so I don't disturb the house or the neighbourhood. It's still a little dark out -- checking my watch, I see it's still only 6 in the morning. The rest of the neighbourhood probably isn't even up yet.

I reach out and tap on the door before I can change my mind. When I used to knock on Adam's door in the past, he'd always answer right away because somehow he knew it was me every time. He'd whisk me inside and get me something to eat, especially during those first weeks of Shiro being in hospital. Then he'd sit down with me while I ate and drink his tea and tell me my knock was always so unsure. That I didn't have to be unsure or scared when I came to his door, because he loves me just as much as Shiro does and more. I still remember how good that always made me feel, to have family besides Shiro that would take care of me.

With that in mind I wait for Adam to answer.

After a few seconds I hear a faint, "Coming!" from the inside, then some footsteps before the door opens and he's there.

He blinks at me over his glasses for a second -- square as usual -- before smiling. "Keith! Come in!"

I give him a grim smile in return and steal inside when he opens the door wider. Boy, this is not going to be easy. 


	12. --lance.

I'm crying so hard I can't breathe. Hunk is crying too, asking question after question after question about exactly what happened and how did it happen and why. Pidge is still staring at me with the same blank expression she had on when I first told them I was dying.

I reach down and grasp fistfulls of sand in my hands, clench as hard as I can. My eyes clench too, greeted by the sounds of Hunk's sobs.

"I- I don't know what I'm gonna do without you," Hunk's saying, more like choking out. It's like he can't find the proper words, and I can hardly blame him. I'm a bigger mess than he is. Within the five minutes that I'd opened the Skype call, I'd already started crying. I hadn't even tried.

I peer down at the laptop screen through my wet eyelashes, letting go of the sand. "I don't know either. I'm so scared, guys."

"Have you told your parents yet?" Hunk asks, sniffing. Pidge still says nothing, but I can see her wipe away a few tears under her eyes and take off her glasses, which tells me she's definitely crying.

I shake my head. "No. I haven't told anyone in my family yet."  
I think of Keith, and smile without thinking. "Heh, but I did tell this guy on that stupid Last Friend app."

"You told a guy before you told your family?" Pidge demands, voice shrill with emotion. "Lance, really?"

Hunk chuckles lightly. He wipes bluntly at his eyes with the back of his hands. "And, she speaks."

"No, I'm serious," she continues. "I really hope this isn't a sick fucking joke. It'll be your death day either way, I can promise you that."  
Her face takes up her whole computer screen in a menacing but pained sneer. I would get scared if I didn't know she's mourning.

"It's not a joke, I swear." I say. Snot is all over my face. I pull down my shirt sleeve and use it to wipe the ick away. It's not like it'll matter much if I'm dying anyway. I can look as filthy as I want, really. It's my death day. God, I made it sound like a fucked-up birthday.

"I'm coming over," Hunk says then. "Pidge, Shay and I. We're all coming over and we're going to make you all your favourite meals. No questions asked, I will not accept a no. You're going to eat like a king on your last day, whether you want to or not."

I start to laugh, feeling the tears come again. "It might be a heart attack that kills me then."

Really, I couldn't have asked for a better group of friends.


	13. --keith.

Right off the bat I tell Adam I'm dying. I spit it out there on the porch right before I go inside, afraid to take my time with the news because I really might die any second. His expression doesn't change, doesn't falter, really. I guess he's in shock. He just pulls me into the house and sits me down at the kitchen table, which hasn't changed at all. It's still mahogany, shaped like an oval on top with four stubby little legs. I feel almost too tall for it now -- when I was younger it was perfect for my height, but now, it's not. It makes me feel even worse in this situation.

Adam's turned away, making tea. I watch him because I have nothing else to do, take comfort in the fact that he's still got the same sense of fashion and the same wardrobe. I recognize his green sweater vest from before Shiro went into the coma. He hasn't changed much at all. I'm glad.

In no time at all, he's bringing the cups of tea to the table. It's nice he remembers how I take mine, how I've always taken mine -- way too sweet and with way too much milk.

"Still take a crap load of sugar?" Adam asks, a small smile on his face. He probably remembers younger me more vividly than I do. I used to always ask for a "buttload" of sugar in my tea. The term has evolved over the years.

I smile back. "Yeah. I guess it doesn't matter how much I eat today, anyway."

"Keith, don't joke about that." Adam snaps suddenly. He looks down into his teacup. "I can't lose you too. I lost Shiro. I cannot lose you too."

I frown. My hand reaches to touch the teacup and warm my hands. "You didn't lose Shiro," I tell him. "He's still alive."

"You know what I mean,"

I shake my head. I know what he means, but I don't want to. "You could visit him every once in a while," I mutter. I'm getting irritated already. It was Shiro's fault he got into the accident, but it's not his fault he's in a coma now. It's not like he wanted this. He loves Adam way too much to want to hurt him. And he would never intentionally leave me.

I can see Adam's hand veins pop up when he clenches the handle on his teacup in frustration. "Keith, you don't understand the situation. You're too young. You don't know what it felt like to not know if your fiancé is dead or alive. So don't you dare give me attitude."

It's only been fifteen minutes since I got here and already the air feels tense and the silence is choking me. I've never really had a disagreement with Adam. But I came to see him today. I can't risk fighting with him and dying without having thanked him for everything he's done for me. I look awkwardly around myself for a moment before looking back at Adam.

"I'm dying today," I say into the big kitchen. My voice echoes and it's like nails on a chalkboard. "I don't want to fight with you. I know you love Shiro. You made him happy. I guess that's all that matters."

Adam looks at me now. His head is tilted to the side a little bit.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said," I say. It's not easy at all, but I have to apologize and make sure I'm on good terms with him before I die. "I'm just frustrated that I'm never going to be able to see you again or Shiro when he wakes up."

God, it's really setting in now. Fuck.

Adam's glasses are getting foggy. He pinches beneath his eyes, coming away with wet fingers. "When did you find out?"  
His voice is already breaking.

"This morning." I tell him. It's pointless. What does it matter? "What does it matter, anyway?"

My tea is getting cold. I grab it and sip some. It is cold.

"It matters because you'll have that much more time to spend doing the things you love," Adam says. He puts down his tea cup and sighs. "I can't believe that of all the days, today I have to teach."

"I'll be okay." I say automatically. It had always been an automatic response to both him and Shiro when they'd worried about me in the past, and I'm surprised how fast it flies out of my mouth now. Truthfully I don't know if I'll be okay. I don't know what's going to happen to me today.

"How do you know that?"

"I don't."  
I get up to go pour my tea down the sink. I can't drink it anymore; it's like drinking sandpaper. I guess the whole death thing is especially getting to me now.

Adam is nodding when I turn back around, like he gets that I'm stumbling over my words and why. "I figured as much. I wish I could stay here and accomodate you today but --"

I study his face. He does look truly sorry. I mean, after all, he did help look after me while Shiro was still conscious.

"It's fine. I'm not going to stay here anyway. I have to go see Shiro and then meet up with someone. I just needed to come here and tell you before I died." I cut him off. I move backwards, over to the door, body language for "can I leave now please?" because I'm so bad with words.

"You're meeting up with someone?" Adam asks. "A friend?"

I nod. "I'm going to fly out to California to see him." I say, and it's then that I realize I decided already it's me who's going to fly to Lance.

Adam's eyes go wide. "Keith, do you realize the risks of doing that?"

Maybe it's because I actually don't understand the risks, because I nod again. "Yeah. Don't worry. I'll be ok."  
I read somewhere that airplane crashes are way less common than car crashes. Besides, what does it matter if I'm dying today anyway?

Suddenly I need to leave Adam's house. Adam. It's all too domestic and cozy -- a reminder of what I once had and could have had longer under different circumstances. Maybe if I weren't dying so soon. I wrinkle my nose. "I gotta get to the hospital." I tell Adam. But I linger there by the door, because I know if I leave now, abruptly, Adam will never be able to get closure.

It's more of a subconscious decision than a conscious one, really.

I think it's me that steps forward. But whichever one of us it is that initiates the hug, doesn't matter. I know we both need this just as badly as each other.

For a moment I let myself breathe in Adam's scent. That smell that floods me with nostalgia, takes me back to a time when I wasn't like this. I was younger once, with the best big brother a kid could ask for, and the best big brother's fiancé a kid could ask for. I remember not too long ago, I had to stand up on tip toe to reach Adam and hug him -- same with Shiro. I was always too short.

But when they hugged me, I always felt at home, like I was always meant to be safely tucked into their arms.

Adam always wore a crisp autumn blazer, made of thick wool, like professors do. It was always prickly but I'd looked past that to hug what I could of him and smell the summer grass and new wood smell on him, that always made me feel like I was home.

Shiro liked to wear athletic shirts all the time. After his diagnosis with his muscle problem, he'd started wearing the clothes in order to do his exercises, but they'd just stayed with him because they were so comfortable. When I hugged Shiro I'd smell what I always used to smell when I hugged him, all the way through my life: vanilla and icy-hot (for his muscles). He probably doesn't smell like that anymore, which makes me depressed. The hospital has definitely made its mark on him.

I come back to Adam and push slightly, taking myself out of the hug before I can start crying.

"Take care of yourself, alright, Keith?"  
Adam's looking at me like I'm little again. He's tearing up.

"I will." I say. Stiffly, because I can't let myself cry. I have to show him I'm in control -- that I can handle this last day of life.

I turn and grab the door handle, thrusting myself into the world before I can change my mind.


	14. --lance.

It's 7:00 when Hunk and Pidge get to the beach. I'm still sitting in the same spot when they get to me, taking advantage of the free wifi to watch stupid YouTube videos. They don't make me laugh like they used to. Even videos I'd watched yesterday and laughed my head off at fail to make me feel anything today. I feel miserable.

At the moment Pidge and Hunk get to me, I've turned to my phone with my laptop still running a clip of Gordon Ramsay at another disaster of a restaurant. I'm checking back my messages with Keith, smiling at some of them. I genuinely wonder if I'm going to meet him or not. I really hope so, but it's not even noon yet, so I shouldn't worry. I'm probably at my safest on the beach.

"Lance!" Hunk calls, and I jerk my head back to see him and Pidge scrambling down the wooden stairs to the sand.

I stand up. "Hey, guys,"

Hunk runs over and tackles me into a glomp before I can say anything else. I bury my head in his broad but soft shoulder and break down. He smells like cookies, as usual. He's always baking, and all the stuff he makes always tastes so great. Thinking about this reminds me I'm dying today, which means I won't ever be able to eat his food again.

My sobs come harder, until snot is pouring down my face. "Hunk, I won't ever be able to eat your food ever again, _oh my gosh_."

Hunk pulls my face from his shoulder into his hands and smiles gently at me. "Well, then it's a good thing I brought a feast."

As soon as he lets me go Pidge is volleying into me like a little flightless bird. I wrap my arms around her, stunned. "Whoa, there."

She's crying -- little hiccupy sobs. "We're gonna miss you so much." she stutters, and my heart breaks again.

I can't tell her it's alright because it really isn't. I'm going to die today, plain and simple. I look up at Hunk and he comes over without a word to put his arms around all of us in a group hug.

"I'm gonna miss you guys too." I tell them. Now I'm scared. Scared about what's going to happen to me afterwards.

I just nuzzle into Hunk and Pidge and close my eyes until we part.

Hunk's wiping away tears when he asks, "You said your family doesn't know yet?"

I look to him and then Pidge before sighing. "They're not even awake yet," I say. "I'm debating whether to tell them at all, really. I don't want to wake up my mama today just to say I'm dying, y'know?"

"Yeah, but it'd be even crueler not to tell them, and have them wake up only to find out you're dead," Pidge says. There's a catch in her voice, like she's imagining that happening. It's an echo of my argument with myself before.

I rub the back of my neck and then my nose. "I-I don't know. It's going to be really hard for me, guys. You know how tight we all are."

Hunk and Pidge fall silent. Hunk's the closest to knowing how I feel, because he also has a big family that loves him a lot. Pidge's family is tight too, but small. She only has one sibling, who's in University. Really, she's like an only child right now.

"Hunk, what would you do?" I ask. I'm honestly feeling so helpless right now. I feel like I have too little time to do what I want to do. I have a running checklist of things I want to do and no time at all to do them. I've never felt so much pressure or depression.

"I'd probably tell them," Hunk says. He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Look, I know it's hard. I can't even imagine what you're going through right now. But your family deserves to know the truth. It's not really your decision whether they need to know or not."

I glance back at the house, which is sitting near the beach. It occurs to me that I'll leave it at some point today and never come back to it. My family, too. Hunk's right. I have to milk these last hours for all they're worth. Especially if I'm going to meet up with Keith later.

Without looking at Hunk, I nod. "Let's go inside then."

At the same time I can't help but think, _What the fuck am I doing?_


	15. --keith.

I know exactly where the hospital is in relation to Adam's house. I think I've gone there so many times, I'd know where it was even if I didn't know where _I_ was.

The sky has started to brighten up a little bit, but this makes me even more scared than when it was darker. There's something about daylight that irks me, especially on the last day of my life. I don't know, I guess it makes me feel more exposed than when I'm under the cover of night. As I leave back over the sidewalk leading to Adam's house, I hold my Swiss Army knife in my jeans pocket.

From here, the hospital is about twenty minutes away if I'm walking. The fact that I'm walking reminds me that I have a motorbike back at the house that could probably take me to the hospital a lot faster. Stopping, I debate whether I should go back to the house and take the bike, but then I decide against it. If I get into an accident and die before I've said goodbye to Shiro, I'll regret it until my brain gives out from the trauma, and then I'll regret it in whatever afterlife I have. Plus, I really want to meet Lance in person before I go.

With my hands shoved deep in my pockets, I set off for the hospital.

\--

I get to the hospital and immediately check my phone -- 7:30. _Damn_ it. I probably took longer because of how careful I was. I went at a snail's pace and checked like fifty times before crossing the streets, like a maniac. I guess it was all for a good purpose. I'm not dead yet. I mean, it's only seven hours into my last day. It would be pretty pathetic to die now.

The doors to the hospital are just as dreary and depressing as the rest of it. They're not even shiny anymore, and they're covered in fingerprints. The cleaning guy must have stopped bothering to disinfect them anymore, because so many people check in and out of here all day, every day. I wouldn't blame him. The hospital is honestly the most disgusting, horrible place I've ever been. But it has Shiro in it, so it's not all bad.

I only take a second to debate whether to touch the doors or the handicap button, but then I remember again that I'm dying today, so it won't matter anyway if I catch an infectious disease unless the disease is what kills me. A day is a pretty short amount of space in which something can kill you. I decide to take my chances.

I push open the door and rub my palm on my jeans as I walk over the mats on the floor saying "Today is Wednesday!" as if I didn't know what day it was. I go up to the front desk and feel a sinking in my gut. Great. Fucking _fantastic_. Griffin's working today. Just my _fucking_ luck.

He actually has the nerve to smirk at me as I approach. _What a dick_. He knows very fucking well that I'm visiting my unconscious brother, every time I come here, because why the fuck else would I be here? And this asshole actually fucking smirks. _God I hate his guts._

I can't focus on my hatred of him now. I have to just get to Shiro, say my goodbye, and leave. There's one good thing about dying today -- it means I won't ever have to see James Griffin's smug-ass face ever again.

"Kogane," Griffin says, still grinning. "Here to visit Shiro again?"

I can feel my blood starting to boil. I hate him so much, I can't even stand him using Shiro's name. "Why the fuck else would I be here?" I say through gritted teeth. I'm resisting the serious urge to punch him out. Technically, I can, but I can't guarantee I'll get off scot-free. I don't want to blow everything and spend the last day of my life in jail for assault, even if Griffin deserves it.

Griffin shakes his head. "Language."

"You're a prick, Griffin." I tell him.

"Thanks, Keith."  
He hands me the clipboard with the sign-in sheet on it. "You're not so bad, yourself."

I scribble my name on to the form and shove the clipboard back at him, then turn my back and start toward the elevators.

Honestly, he's not worth my time. I wish I'd never met him in the first place. The resentment I harbour for him has been there since we were kids.

I get into the elevator and luckily, nobody else boards with me. I'm alone with my thoughts as I ride up to the third floor, where Shiro is.

After all the kids had found out I was an orphan back in the third grade -- because Shiro always used to pick me up and he was only sixteen so they figured he couldn't be my dad -- I started to get picked on way more than usual. Starting out I got the "emo kid" label because, from kindergarten, I kept to myself and wore all black and didn't have any friends because I was too shy. The other kids stayed away from me and called me names, which I could somewhat handle by the third grade. But then they found out my big brother was raising me, and they couldn't get enough of it.

James Griffin was the one who first really made fun of me for being an orphan.

He pushed me one day so I fell on the grass outside the school, and then laughed.

I can remember the tears that had automatically come to my eyes when he'd done that. It hurt -- on more than one level.

"Aww, are you gonna cry?" I remember him taunting me. "Too bad Mommy and Daddy aren't there to --"

I hadn't let him finish that sentence. I was up and punching him in thirty seconds.

We'd both been called to the principal's office, and Shiro had had to come home from high school early to pick me up and sort things out while Griffin's parents ate up his puppy-dog routine. I was suspended, despite Shiro's best efforts.

I resented Griffin after that.

Looking back, I remember Griffin was a big fan of Shiro's. He was probably just jealous that Shiro was my big brother and not his.

Still, he was a little shit and still is one.

I nod to myself as I get out of the elevator and expertly navigate through the halls to get to Shiro's room, which has felt like home for me too often now. His room is 317. I know it off by heart.

I'm at the door to his room in minutes. It still looks the same -- beige wood. Horrible, as always. Taking a deep breath, I open the door and step inside. 


	16. --lance

It's 7:30. I'm inside the house with Pidge and Hunk, chickening out about going to wake up my family and so staring at the food Hunk brought instead. My hand hovers over a tray of sushi, my mouth starting to water.

"Wow, Hunk. You really pulled out all the stops," I say. The food looks amazing, like all his food. There's at least ten plates of different foods here -- and they're all my favourites.

Hunk shrugs. "You know my mom. She was down to let me use all the ingredients we have when she found out you're dying."

That makes me pause. I love Hunk's mom as much as my own, and I know she loves me. Never being able to see her again makes me depressed, and makes me realize there's a ton of people I'll never get to see again. My grandparents, back in Cuba -- that kills me.

"I just realized I won't ever get to see my grandparents again," I whisper. My heart is beating hard; I feel sick. I adore my grandparents more than anything in the world, and I'm _killed_ by this.

It's not like they have Skype or anything either. We never considered helping them with getting video chat apps, probably because we go and see them every year anyway. This year was going to be in August, two weeks away.

" _Fuck_."

Hunk and Pidge don't say anything -- they can't. Sure, Hunk's maternal grandparents are in Samoa and his paternal grandparents are in a different state, while Pidge's grandma lives in Italy, but they get to see theirs again because they're going to live on after today.

I won't ever have my abuela tell me I'm her _nieto pequeño_ again or squeeze me around the ribs so hard I feel like I can't breathe. I will never get to hear granddad's laugh, or help him fish, ever again.

A flattering upstairs draws me out of my thoughts -- I can hear the tiny footsteps of my niece and nephew. Hunk and Pidge look at me and I look back in alarm. _Oh. Crap_.

I don't know if I'm ready to tell my family yet. But I guess it doesn't matter now. I have to tell them, whether I want to or not.

"Okay, okay, I'm up!" I hear Veronica yell, laughing. My heart kind of cracks at that -- thinking that this is probably the last time she'll laugh until months after I'm dead.

My parents' voices fill the hallway upstairs, bouncing off the walls, and the tiny footsteps get lost in big creaks on the stairs. My siblings' voices join my parents', until there's that familiar buzz I always hear every morning. Today, unlike other days, when I'd find it loud and repetitive, it's music to my ears. My voice is the only thing missing from it.

I watch the staircase across from the kitchen table intently as they all come down -- they're all still sleepy. At this point mama hasn't had her coffee and is probably exhausted. Usually at this time she can't even open her eyes without her coffee.

My niece and nephew are the first to bound down the stairs to me. I hold out my arms to catch them as they jump, and laugh.

"Hey! Good morning, you two!"

"Good morning, Uncle Lance," they tell me. My niece shifts around so she's on my back while my nephew lingers in my arms. I smile. This is the last time I'll ever hear them tell me "Good morning". It's very bittersweet.

Luis comes down then, taking my nephew and placing him on his shoulders while Veronica takes my niece and nuzzles her before putting her on the floor.

"Why are you up so early?" Veronica asks over her shoulder, before noticing Hunk and Pidge are here too. "Oh, hey, guys. You here for breakfast?"  
Her face is starting to fall. I think she's starting to understand what's going on.

Hunk looks at me when I look back at him, and then I face my family again. Now they're all downstairs, except for Rachel, who's lingering on the stairs, hair all messy. They're all looking at me, anyhow. I have to tell them now.

"I, umm, I'm dying today," I say.

My mother faints.


	17. --keith.

There's dead flowers on the side table next to Shiro's bed. My first thought, in anger, is to wonder why the fuck they haven't cleaned it away. I don't remember ever leaving Shiro flowers; it must have been Adam, and a long time ago, considering how deteriorated they are. Which means Adam hasn't been here in awhile. That kind of makes me both angry and upset. I mean, yeah, sure, Shiro gets visited by some annoying little pilots sometimes that aspire to be like him or whatever -- I guess he was pretty famous. But there's a difference between being visited by people that barely know you and being visited by people you have had an intimate relationship with. I'm pretty close to Shiro, but I was never close to Shiro in the way that Adam was. I mean, Adam was Shiro's fiancé.

I scrutinize the flowers, tempted to call a nurse to take them away. But then my eyes get stuck on Shiro and the beeping of the machines starts to register in my ears. It had faded in the background because I just got used to it after awhile, but now I can hear it.

I wish I'd brought flowers.

I realize I'm still standing by the doorway, and walk in. I kind of feel out of place in his room, but then I always did. I'm wearing my dirty red and white jacket, jeans and boots, which I haven't washed in forever because Shiro doesn't nag me to anymore. My hair is too long; Shiro would tell me off if he saw how long it was growing. He didn't used to be like that before Adam. In fact, Shiro used to be pretty laid-back. In the beginning of his relationship with Adam, he'd take me riding around my school parking lot on his motorcycle. Then Adam started tagging along, and he started nagging Shiro to keep me safe or whatever, like he was my mom. Shiro listened to him. I could tell he was having an influence on him. He was still the same thrill-seeking guy he had been before, except in certain instances he started being more strict.

Even when Adam wasn't there, Shiro would make me wear a helmet on his motorcycle, and other things like knee pads and elbow pads and fingerless gloves -- they really took the fun out of things. Sure, I complained, but Shiro was happy with Adam, so I guess I was happy too. When your hero is happy, you make sacrifices.

I come near the bed now and sit on the edge of it, where I'm sure Shiro's legs aren't. He looks just like he's sleeping. He doesn't look like he's been in a coma for a year at all. It's weird to think he's almost a year older now. He's almost thirty.

I rub the fabric of my gloves nervously as I inhale and clear my throat. I know I want to talk to him, but I don't know what to say. I want to hug him one last time before I die, but I can't, and this adds to the list of reasons I cry even before I've said anything.

"Hi, Shiro," I say, wiping away tears. My gaze runs over to the gap where his right arm should be -- where there's just shoulder and no limb. "It's kind of crazy. Crazy to think that a year ago, you had both your arms."

That gets me thinking about the accident. "I wish I could've stopped you." I tell him. I can't speak properly now -- I'm starting to sob. I always blame myself for the accident that put Shiro into a coma, thinking I could have done something to stop it happening.

It was a year ago.

Shiro always loved flying. Like, he loved it more than _anything_. I think something about flying -- going fast -- gave him a rush he couldn't get from anything else. Shiro would ride his motorcycle and drive his car with open windows so he could feel the wind. I think he liked his motorbike better than the car because it went way faster, plus it put him in a more vulnerable position. Something about the danger aspect appealed to him -- it appealed to me, too. I don't know where we get it from. Probably our Pops.

Flying for Shiro, anyway, came later. He got his piloting licence young and started out in choppers -- he loved those. I remember coming home from school and seeing Adam laughing about Shiro's hair and face, which always looked pretty whipped afterwards, so I knew he'd flown. Helicopters were a safety zone. Even Adam would go up in them sometimes because he knew they were safer than planes. In any case Shiro got good at them right away, like with everything, and he got bored.

Right at the beginning of him training to fly a plane, Adam tried to convince him not to. They had a lot of disagreements about that. I think they fought more when Shiro wanted to fly planes than they ever had before. But that wasn't all because of Adam's paranoia.

Adam had been apprehensive about Shiro flying helicopters initially too, because Shiro has a condition. I forgot what it's actually called, but it's a muscle condition he's had for a couple of years now that limits his ability to do things, and sometimes causes spasms. There are things Shiro did to control them, like muscle therapy and electrical impulses, but he hated doing them and sometimes forgot to.

Shiro never had spasms when he flew helicopters. I guess it was because he was in a comfort zone and it was easier to fly them. Flying them actually helped Shiro's muscles rather than harmed them.

Adam let Shiro train to fly planes, maybe because he thought Shiro would come to his senses or something. He never did, of course.

And then came the day that put him into his coma. Shiro had recently been cleared for flying planes. Early that morning, I still remember, it was way too early, he'd gotten up and just left. I heard it, but I just thought he was going to do his daily muscle workout, so I didn't worry. Besides, I had school later on that day so Shiro wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind. In fact, it was Adam's history class I was going to be in -- he occasionally taught high school classes and this semester he happened to be teaching at my school.

Usually I could count on Shiro to be back around the time I started eating breakfast, but I woke up later and he wasn't there.

I didn't worry too much at first. I guess I didn't think too much of it. I should have.

Adam knocked on the door right as I was about to leave for school. I felt a kind of dread in my gut and immediately I knew that something had happened to Shiro.

We'd raced to the hospital together, throwing school to the wind. It turned out that Shiro had gone out to fly a test plane, but he'd had a spasm so bad he'd lost control of the panels of the plane. He'd crashed and his head and arm had been badly damaged. His arm had been crushed underneath the metal belly of the plane, while his head had made impact with the ground and rendered him unconscious. I remember seeing him in this hospital bed for the first time and immediately getting drained of all my energy, sinking onto the floor and dropping my book bag. I remember everything going quiet and my ears ringing and hearing Adam ask about what was going on but not really listening.

I remember expecting Shiro to wake up at some point, taking time off school every day   
One, Because I didn't care at this point what my marks were.  
Two, Because Adam made a case for me.

He was real disappointed when I dropped out entirely. But honestly, I couldn't have gone back to school knowing Shiro was unconscious in the hospital. I would never have been able to concentrate properly. It's like if a parent was unconscious, a parent you loved a lot and who had always been there for you. That was and still is Shiro to me.

It won't be after today. After today I'll be a corpse.

I don't want to leave the hospital. I can't. If I do I'll be walking out knowing Shiro will wake up and find out I'm dead and wish he were still unconscious. I really wish I wasn't dying today.

I watch Shiro's chest rise and fall under the sheet -- the calming, even motion always used to calm me down when I'd come in after a bad day or something. It used to ground me and just -- soothe me, I guess. It would take me back to a time when I was little, when I remember being held to someone's chest and not only hearing their heartbeat but feeling it, knowing they were there.

Tears fall from my eyes. My throat closes up and I start to sob. Noisily. Angrily. This isn't fucking _fair._

I walk to the chair near Shiro's bed and pull it closer to him, then sit in it and double over, my head on the covers of the bed. I'm still sobbing because he can't comfort me. He can't pick up his hand and stroke my hair like he did when I was younger. I want so badly for him to do that I think I start to imagine it, to feel it. I cry myself raw.

I cry because of the accident. Because he wanted to do something he loved and because life's a bitch so he couldn't without his stupid condition getting in the fucking way. Because he was so excited, I still remember, to fly, and he wanted to so badly. Because so many people looked up to him, including me, and he's such a great guy and a good person but life doesn't think so. Because he might never wake up. Because I could have stopped him and I didn't. Because I didn't get up earlier that morning. Because I'm dying today. Because Shiro's my brother, and I love him, and this is the most traumatic thing I've ever gone through.

Shiro was all the grown ups I never had. He was my mother, my father and my brother all rolled into one. I depended on him for everything and he was the perfect parent, I don't know how he did it considering he was young too when our dad died.

He was determined to raise me right, and I feel like I'm disappointing him by dying before he sees the result of his influence.

If I'm going to leave him at some point, I have to at least give him a note.

My sobs have come to a stop as my thoughts took over -- the covers next to Shiro's good hand are all wet with my tears. The concept of leaving Shiro and never going back to him makes me want to both cry and never leave, but I know, though it's bullshit honestly, Shiro would want me to go and experience the world one last time instead of being holed up in here with him. I know he would. Shiro did life big in the little time he lived it actively, and I always wanted to be just like him. I guess the opportunity is being handed to me now.

I get my head off the bed and wipe my eyes uselessly, making up my mind. Shiro's still lying there, of course, but I can't look at him too long without feeling the crushing weight of the guilt I have for everything that happened.

"I'm sorry, Shiro," I tell him. "I'll be back."

I glance at the clock above his bed. Already 9:00. I have time, though. I'm going to be careful and come back, I can promise Shiro that.

I stand then, and dart out of the room, closing the door behind me.

The gift shop is not far from Shiro's room. I get there by habit. The lady manning the shop always annoyed the fuck out of me, to be honest, with her fake-ass smile and false concern, but she's not who I'm here for so I concentrate on my mission.

I go up to the counter and ask for the meanings of different flowers. I remember Adam trying to teach me when I was younger, but I had forgotten, plus, some things Adam said to me went in one ear and out the other.

I tell her about my situation, not for pity or anything, but maybe because it'll help add context to what flowers she helps me choose. She introduces herself as Linda, which is admittedly nice, and then she tells me I should get forget-me-nots, yellow roses, magnolias and daisies. She asks me if I want to know what they mean, but I kind of don't. Anyway, I vaguely remember that daisies mean loyal love, which is true. I will never give up on Shiro, like he never gave up on me, even after I'm dead.

I pay with some of my life savings, which I'd also thought to nab from the house, and leave the shop with the flowers. I get back to Shiro's room and put them on the table beside him, next to the dead ones, taking the card out from between petals and placing it down on the side table so I can write on it. There's a black pen already there that I can take advantage of. It takes me a while to think of what to write but finally I start,

_Shiro,_

What should I put next? _I'm dead._  
 _\- Keith_?

Fuck no.

Shit, I only have like three lines to work with here. Fuck. _Shit_. How am I supposed to write Shiro a goodbye note with only three lines?

I run a hand through my hair, watching as strands of it just come right out and fall to the floor. Stress. Makes me think of when Shiro was studying college finals and his patch of white fringe grew.

I look back down at the note and take a deep breath. What would Shiro say?

Patience yields focus. Right.

Well, I was never one for words. I guess in the true sense I shouldn't write anything too major. I'm sure Shiro knows how much I admire him and everything. He was pretty intuitive like that. Still is.

_Shiro,_

_Sorry you have to wake up to me dead. Just know I had a hard time saying bye to you, and how much I loved being raised by you. You were all the parents I ever needed._

_\--Keith_

There. Simple enough.

I put the note back with the flowers and pause, stopping to look at Shiro again. It feels like an invisible force field is preventing me from leaving. I just can't. But I have to. Shiro would want me to.

I remember something last minute and rush to the flowers again to scrawl it down, then I turn away and begin to leave before I can get stuck again.

I get back to the registration desk, where Griffin is still sitting.

"Leaving, Kogane?" he asks me. I can hear the smirk in his voice. I almost don't allow him to get to me, but then I stop and let him talk to me.

"What, do I have to sign out?" I ask wearily.

Griffin shrugs. "Depends. I don't have to have you sign out, but I might if I know it gets on your nerves."

I'm just. I'm done. I can't anymore. I let him have it. "I really don't think it would get on my nerves. My nerves are just done. I think if you found out you were dying this morning knowing that today you would be visiting your unconscious brother who had raised you your whole life, for the last time ever, your nerves would be pretty fucking shot too."

I say the whole thing in a soft, calm voice, because I can't bother yelling anymore. I enjoy the way Griffin's face goes white right in front of me.

"Fuck you, James Griffin. Have a nice fucking life." I tell him as a final parting gift, flipping him the bird too before I turn and get myself out of the hospital.

It's 9:30 now. Because I have to distract my mind, I start to wonder what Lance is doing.


	18. -- lance.

We're all sitting down now, silent. I'm sitting next to Mamà on the couch as she nurses her head, tears in her eyes. None of us can really speak right now. My hand is on Mamà's shoulder. She's warm -- it comforts me in the face of my death.

"So you knew when I came down for a snack?" Veronica asks from the couch beside the one I'm sharing with Mamà. I look over at her, nodding. She's got my niece Nadia sitting in her lap -- Nadia's doing some kind of innocent game by herself where she mashes her hands together over and over again. Her hands are too chubby; they don't make any sound yet.

I don't want to see Veronica's look of heartbreak because I know it would break me too. I make a point of not looking at her. Instead I look back down at Mamà, who's starting to fan her face with a hand. As soon as I look at her she pulls me down into a hug that I'm helpless to resist.

She's crying into my shoulder, I can feel it. Like the way she would always cry onto my head when we would watch sad movies as a family.

I'm mashed into the couch cushions but I barely even notice, I barely even care. I hold her tight and some tears plop out of my eyes.

" _Dios Mio, mi bebé,_ " she's whispering through sobs, over and over again. " _Mi bebé_."

I don't even know what to say to her. What do you say to a grieving mother when you're the child she's grieving? "It's okay, Mamà," I say in place of nothing, because I don't want to just say nothing. "I'm okay."

I bury my face in her shoulder for a bit, only looking up when she strokes my hair and sits up. I follow her cue.

"When did you know?" she demands of me. I look at her. Her eyes are lined with tears but are narrowed in a deadly way. "When did you find out?"

I know I'll get in trouble, but it'll be the last time I ever do. I risk it. "At 2 AM."

"2 in the morning!" Mamà exclaims. She looks genuinely shocked for a few seconds before she dissolves into tears again and clutches me to her, her hand holding my head like when I was a baby. She kisses the top of my head and then inhales deeply -- she says there's a place on the top of your kids' heads that always smells like it did when they were babies, no matter how old they are.

I close my eyes and nod. "I'm sorry, Mamà," I whisper. "I really am."

Over the next twenty minutes we alternate between crying and my family asking me questions. It's like one big pity fest. I answer everything I'm asked, including a heart-wrenching question from my nephew about me still being there to play with him and my niece. I'd had to hold back my tears to answer that one, because they're too young to understand what death is. I just told them I'm going away for awhile, and maybe Luis will tell them when they're older what really happened.

Hunk's food gets eaten as we go along, losing track of time. It's all really good. Just like I'd expected it to be. I try to enjoy it as best I can, because I know it's the last time I'm ever going to be able to eat Hunk's food. It's not exactly sinking in yet. I'm aware of it, but I'm not feeling it. I guess I'm still in shock.

I've lost track of time at this point. I'm shoveling Hunk's mom's homemade wedges into my mouth when Luis comes up to me, an eye on the watch he always wears. I chew the mouthful I'm working on and gesture to his shirt. It's the smiley face shirt he wears all the time, which never seems to reflect his face. "Same shirt?" I ask.

Luis looks down and shrugs. "My favourite shirt."  
He's frowning, like always, but I guess he especially has a right to now. "Uh, but it's 10 now. Thought you might want to know."

I stare at him and stuff more wedges into my mouth. "So?"

"So, don't you want to get out of here?" Luis asks.

I think about that. "And go where?"

"I don't know, anywhere but here," says Luis. He turns back to our family, scattered all over the living room. "You stay here and you're gonna be crying the whole day. I know you probably want to stay here with Mamà and our sisters, but there are better things you could be doing on your last day. Look, you're still a teenager. You should be enjoying yourself."

I swallow my wedges. I do love my family, but I also want to meet Keith at some point before I die today. Maybe Hunk and Pidge could meet him too.  
"I just don't know how I'm going to tell Mamà." I tell Luis.

Luis gives me a rare half-smile. "I think she'll understand, _hermanito_."

I breathe out, clapping my hands together to get rid of the stuff on my fingers from the wedges. "I guess," I agree begrudgingly. I know this is probably the best thing to do, for all of us. It won't end well from my family either if I stay here any longer. I can't burden them like this.

I push out a long breath, nodding at Luis. I move past him to go back into the living room, where Mamà spots me right away.

" _Hola, bebé_ ," she murmurs as she pulls me to her side. I smell her perfume and it comforts me temporarily, preparing me for what I'm about to say.

"Hey, Mom," I say, "um, there's something I need to ask."

Mamà stares at me. "Go ahead. I'm all ears."

She sounds like she'd be open to anything I want to do just because it's my last day on Earth today, and knowing this is because of how much she loves me and wants to see me happy makes me want to cry again. It also makes this a lot harder.

"I met another person who's dying today online," I tell her, choosing my words carefully. "His name is Keith and he's 18, but he lives in Texas."

Mamà nods expectantly. "Alright, and so? Do you believe you can trust him?"

"Yeah. I think so. I like him so far."

"So can't you continue to chat over the internet?" asks Mamà. "What's the problem?"

I hesitate. I actually feel like I'm blushing -- I'm getting a weird feeling in my gut like fluttering and bubbling, and my face is burning. "I… kinda want to meet him in person," I say. "He said that he could get a ticket over here. It only takes a couple of hours."

"And then you'd spend your day with him?" asks Mamà. She looks thoughtful. I think she's finally understanding. "But what if he's the one who's going to cause your death?"

I shrug. Really, at this point, who cares. Besides, I didn't get that from Keith. I got an emo vibe from him. "Then he is, I guess. But I want to say I met him before I go. I want to… spend time with someone my age. I love you guys, I love all of you, but I don't feel it would be fair to any of you, me too, if I were to stay here the rest of the day."

Mamà's nose wrinkles. "It would be a pretty rotten day for you. Your mama wouldn't stop crying."

I smile. "I know. I love you, Mamà."

"I love you, too. And I think you meeting Keith is a great idea. As long as he pays for his plane ticket and you two don't stray too far past the beach if you're going somewhere."

My smile widens. We'll see.

I hug Mamà tight, burying my face into her shoulder. "Thanks." I tell her, because she needs to hear it.

At 10:25, I send Keith a text that says, _heyyy Keith. ready to come to cali?????_


	19. --keith.

I just get over the threshold of the doorway to mine and Shiro's apartment when my phone buzzes. I take it out of my pocket, expecting it to be some stupid notification from the art app I use, but it's Lance.

_heyyy Keith. ready to come to cali?????_

I feel a flash of excitement. I guess he's ready to see me now. It just now occurs to me that I have to get a plane ticket and go through security and board a plane, which could crash, if I want to see Lance. I don't know where the airport is from here. The only times I've ever flown out of state was when Shiro, Pop and I went to Japan, and I don't remember that because I was only a toddler.

My hand is still on the doorknob. I shut the door behind myself and sit down so I can go over my options.

I think I remember Shiro using a GPS in the car sometimes, that he could attach to his motorbike. And he still has the motorbike in the storage area of the parking garage across the street. If anything was to kill me today, it would definitely be that motorbike. I've ridden it before to school and stuff, but I haven't ridden it in so long and not on any real roads before. Thinking of riding it makes me think of Adam and how opposed he would be to the idea. I grin -- it's funny. He makes a certain face, like a shocked face mixed with offense. He used to make that face when Shiro would pull his stunts. Those two were more different than different can be.

But Adam's not here, so he can't stop me. I just really hope I don't get hit by a car and die while I'm in Texas, because I really want to see Lance. If I stay here I'll just be depressed, and do nothing, staying in the house with the blinds drawn. Shiro wouldn't want that. That's the reason I left the hospital. Shiro would want me to live life to the fullest today.

So that's what I'm going to do.

I take one last look back into the apartment, walking to the door. It looks too empty. Too dark. Not enough furniture. Too neat. I hadn't dared to mess it up at all after Shiro fell into his coma, in case he woke up and came home -- I didn't want him to come home to a mess. I used to be really messy -- Shiro would nag me to pick up after myself all the time, like a mom. After that all went away, I felt even more encouraged than ever to clean up and keep the house clean. I started doing laundry, and dishes, and dusting and everything. I have a load of dirty laundry now that I have to run to the cleaners. I won't need to after today.

But hopefully when Shiro does come home, he'll appreciate that I kept the apartment clean for him.

Then I look over to the fireplace and see the picture of me, Shiro and Pop from before Pop died.

We're at the park sitting on a sheet because Pop didn't have any blankets. I still remember the feeling of the grass poking into me through the thin fabric, and complaining that it hurt. I was four and Shiro was eleven, but Shiro was mature even then. He was the one who had given Pop the idea for the picnic, he told me, and he was also the one who had thought to bring the camera. It was one of those old ones with a tripod that Pop adjusted to take an automatic picture.

In the picture, I'm sitting on one side of the blanket with a piece of orange halfway to my mouth and Shiro and Pop are across from me, eating sushi. I was eating the orange because I was upset that I couldn't use chopsticks, and Shiro had laughed. When I was little I used to be jealous of the things Shiro could do, but now I just have admiration for him. He was always the best big brother I could have ever asked for.

It was only about four years after that picture was taken that Pop got the call from DeathCast. He'd gone out on his tractor that day anyway. I think maybe that's where Shiro and I got our reckless side from.

I shake my head. I don't want to think about my dad's death today.

Last second I remember if I'm going to the airport I need money for tickets -- a lot of money. I have a debit card that Shiro was keeping for me in his sock drawer -- he thought I didn't know where it is, but I do. On it I have my life savings and money for college that Shiro and Pop had saved up. I'm sure it's enough. Plus, I won't need the money now.

I steal back into Shiro's bedroom, ignoring the way the familiarity of it all makes me feel. It's still as impeccable as the day he'd left it. I rush to his chest of drawers and pull open the top one, rummaging. It doesn't take long to for my hand to brush against a debit card. I pull it out and dart back out of his room, pulling the door closed behind me.

Turning back towards the front door, I decide it'd take too long to try and find the GPS, so I'm just going to use my phone. I take it out and type in "Airport". Immediately it shows me directions for the airport. I pocket my phone and pull on the door handle, feeling the wind on my face as I go outside into the world again.

The parking garage is across the street from the apartment complex. I climb down the stairs I've used thousands of times, rushing because I'm excited now. I spare the place a last glance before I cross the street to the parking garage, checking everywhere for cars because of all the places I could be killed, I sincerely don't want it to be here. I manage to pick my way to the locker Shiro owned and pull out the box my Swiss Army knife comes in -- it also contains my keys. I try the garage key and it fits. It allows me to go inside the space and drag the bike out with me. I climb on after locking the gate behind me and rev it up, relishing the way the handles vibrate in my hands. It still works like a charm but I go slow so I don't lose control.

I hope the drivers out there today have mercy on me. 


	20. --lance.

I'm staring at the ocean. The beach is empty and the sand curls around my feet. My family had agreed to let me alone while I wait for a response from Keith, and to be honest, I need it. I need a minute alone to just, be.

My phone chimes in my pocket then. I take it out, not surprised to see that it's Keith. It's like 10:40 now, and his text tells me why he took so long responding.

_hey. At the airport. Buying tix now_

_great!!! I_ text back, smiling. _want me to send u my address??_

_yeah sure. I'll be there._

Gosh, I'm so excited. I can't believe I'm going to meet this guy in two hours. It feels like it's long overdue. I wish we weren't dying today. I want to have more time to get to know him.

I send my address and city to him and then pocket my phone, smiling out at the water.

I don't expect Hunk to come out to me and embrace me from behind, but I welcome it and tuck my chin into his arms.

"Hey, Hunk," I say, grinning. I feel really soft right now. I never understood what that meant, but I feel it now.

"Hey, Lance," he says back, and lets go of me. "Whatcha doing?"

I shrug. "Looking at the water."

"Is Keith coming? Did you find out?" Hunk asks.

"Yeah. He just texted me -- he'll be here in two hours."

"Cool. Maybe me and Pidge can meet him."

"Yeah, for sure."

Hunk looks out at the ocean for a bit, a hand on his hip. "Lance?"

I turn to him just enough so that I can see him in my peripheral. "Yeah?"

"Do you like him?"

I smile. "Well, yeah. He seems like a good guy, and I can't wait to meet him."  
I truly can't wait to meet him. Just thinking about it makes my cheeks hot. I get that way when I'm excited.

"That's not what I meant," Hunk says, shaking his head.

My eyebrows raise by themselves. "What did you mean?"

I kind of do know what he means. He means do I like-like Keith. Sometimes I think Hunk knows me better than myself.

I've always had trouble with my orientation, more trouble than should be had, really. It's not that I think my family won't accept me -- that's not it at all -- or that I won't accept myself. It's that I really am not sure how I feel. I have self-esteem issues honestly, and Hunk's known this as long as we've been friends. He knows this contributes to the way I feel about others, especially romantically. Especially considering I've never been with anyone.

In the past I would have a different crush every month or so -- I would attach myself to different people and it wouldn't be major, it wouldn't last long, it would be fleeting. Because Veronica knows too, she said I was in love with the idea of being in love. Hunk said I get attached too easy. Both are kinda true even now. I mean, I'm working on my self-esteem, so the crushes are fading, but I still get too attached too easily and I guess maybe that's happening with Keith.

Truthfully I don't know how I feel about Keith. All I know for certain is that I want to be his friend. Let's leave it at that.

Hunk's looking at me expectantly, but also like he sees my thought process running across my face.

I sigh. "I don't know. I don't know. I guess. I haven't even met him yet."

"Well, is he good-looking? Do you think he'll treat you right?"

I smile and throw an arm around Hunk's shoulders. "He's hot," I respond, "and yeah, I think he'll treat me right."   
It still warms my heart how much Hunk cares about me. He's like one of the family, and I love him to death.

"Good." Hunk nods. "Oh! And I almost forgot -- the whole reason I came out here was to ask if you wanted to check out the mall. I hear they give crazy discounts for Deckers. Your mom said you can go with us if you want to."

The mall always appeals to me. Hunk knows that too. "Yeah, sure. Let's go." 


	21. --keith.

The plane ride to California stretches out forever. Never has two hours felt so long. Maybe it's because it's crowded and loud and I got Coach and I know we could crash and that could be the end of me, but I really can't stand being in the thing and when we finally land I want to run past everyone else off the plane.

I get out at the airport and check my phone for the city and address Lance texted to me. I don't know where this city is. He lives in Malibu… where is that from here?

I'm at Long Beach Airport right now. It's already 1 in the afternoon...

I go back over to the front desk. Luckily there's no line, so I ask the guy how long it'll take to get from here to Malibu.

He's balding and looks like one of those people who judge you in Church. Overall condescending and judging.

He sucks in air sharply and winces at my question. "Ooh, that'll be about an hour," he says, and I stare at him.

"An hour?" I ask. "Seriously?"

The guy nods. "Yeah. Sorry. Are you a Decker by any chance?"

Maybe he can read into my tone that I'm going through something he doesn't understand. I nod. "Sure am."

The guy makes a clicking noise with his tongue, the one adults make when they feel sorry for you. "Sorry to lose you," he says, echoing every other adult I've ever heard say that. "I can pay for your first taxi, if you'd like?"

I shake my head. "No. No thanks."

I turn away from him to walk into the center of the airport. Well. Looks like I'll have to hail a cab then. Or several. 


	22. --lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh you guys that new art from Barlee has me so emotional... The broganes and cute-ass Hunk and Lance... I just... Thank you mum for my life... GO CHECK IT OUT IT'S INSANELY CUTE

I'm in Ardene when Keith texts me. I shift the hanger I'm holding to the crook of my arm and look at the text.

_hey. Landed in Long Beach so im an hour away. But I'm gonna see you, one way or another._

I smile at that, and manage to text back, _K. C u_

Pidge, who hates shopping for clothes, emerges from among the clothes in a cicular rack and peers over my shoulder. "Ooh, is that Keith?"

"Yeah," I say, only slightly annoyed. "He'll be here in an hour."

I look over as she wrinkles her nose and pushes her glasses up. "According to my calculations, you like him." she says. It's become an inside joke between us, because Pidge is such a brilliant computer genius and is probably a hacker, Hunk and I just prompt her with "According to Pidge's calculations..." in different situations.

I frown. I can feel my cheeks getting warm. "I haven't even met him yet," I tell her, because I know she's probably right. "Leave me alone."

Hunk comes over from the Clearance rack. "Yeah, Pidge, I don't think he wants to talk about it."

I smile gratefully at him for bailing me out. Hunk checks his watch. "Oh. It's half past. Do you think we should grab a bite to eat and then get back to your house? Keith's probably on his way."

I nod. "Sure. But didn't Pidge want to check out the tech store?"

Pidge grabs onto my arm, her eyes shining. "Yes!" she cries.

\--

  
The tech store is just as boring today as it always is, but at least Pidge likes it. She reminds me of my niece and nephew, bounding excitedly from one new gadget to the next. After she's done admiring a pair of Beats headphones, we leave for the food court.

I get Chinese and Hunk and Pidge get Japanese. I more or less pick at my food because I'm getting more and more excited and anxious to meet Keith. Pidge and Hunk notice, I guess. They keep looking at me over their takeout containers.

We finish and it's 2 in the afternoon, exactly 12 hours after I initially found out I'm dying. I grab Hunk's hand and squeeze before letting go as we exit the mall and head over to Hunk's car, as a final measure of comfort before we go back home.

Hopefully Keith's almost here.


	23. --keith.

The cab I take from Long Beach to Malibu charges me $150 for the whole hour but I couldn't care less. The driver is surprisingly nice anyway. She introduces herself as Romelle as soon as I get in, and I give her my name.

"Where are you headed, Keith?" she asks then. "You don't have much luggage."

I don't have any luggage, really.

"I won't need luggage where I'm going," I tell her. "I'm headed to Malibu. Here's the address."   
I hand her my phone so she can put the address in her GPS. She gives it back to me when she's done.

"Oh, Malibu isn't so bad. I haven't been robbed once while I was there."

I want to laugh. That's not what I mean at all. "Uh, no. I meant that I'm dying today, but I want to get to Malibu to visit a friend before I die."

Romelle's face splits into a grin. She's about my age, it looks like, with blond hair in a high ponytail, big blue eyes and freckles across her nose. She looks too young to be driving a taxi.   
"Ooh, I'm sorry!" she says, laughing. "My mistake!"  
Then she goes serious. "I'm really sorry you're dying today."

I shrug. "It's fine."

She starts the car and then turns back to make sure I'm buckled in.

"I'm good," I tell her.

"Sorry, force of habit," she says as she pulls out of the airport parking lot. "I lost my brother to a car accident because he wasn't wearing his seat belt."

"Wow, that's terrible,"   
I shift in my seat. "I, uh, well, my brother's in a coma."

"What happened?" Romelle asks, and she sounds more invested than anyone I've ever told before. I decide to tell her.

As such, the ride to Lance's house doesn't take long at all. In half an hour I tell Romelle all about myself -- about Shiro's accident, about Adam, about my father -- and in return she tells me about herself over the next half hour.

She tells me about her younger brother Bandor and how lively he'd been before his death, how devastated she'd been afterwards, how she'd taken up driving taxis so she could hopefully reduce some deaths due to seatbelts in this area by making sure everyone in her taxi always had their seatbelt on. I open up more than I've ever done before and start to wonder where Romelle was all this time and why I hadn't met her before.

As we're approaching Lance's street and Romelle's craning to see the house numbers, she asks me a question I hadn't considered the answer for before.

"So, this person you're seeing? You must really like them, huh?"

I think about it. Really, I've only just met Lance. I don't know him at all. All the contact we've ever had has been over text. "I guess. How do you mean?"

"Well, your brother's in hospital and I'm sure there are other people you know better that you could've stayed with." Romelle points out. "So, I guess my question really is, do you have a crush on this person?"

My cheeks burn, but I don't feel uncomfortable. It feels like casual ribbing from a sister or something rather than a stranger driving my cab and teasing me about things I don't want to talk about.

Do I like Lance like that?

"I haven't even met him yet," I tell her, my heart pounding as she rounds a corner and I see the house name on the immediate left. This is Lance's house. "I guess I'm about to, though."

Romelle smiles and pulls up, parking so she can turn and look at me over her seat. "Yup. Well, it was nice driving you, Keith. I would say I hope we meet again, but I can only hope you and I are going to the same place, because I truly believe we were meant to be siblings."

I nod. I agree with her on that. "I wish I'd had a sister like you," I say. I don't want to get out of her cab. Part of me connects her in some way to Shiro, that sibling that sticks with you through thick and thin and knows things about you that nobody else does.

Romelle smiles, but it's twisted by sadness. She's about to say something else when another car pulls up to the house and then into the driveway. I stare at it.

"That must be him," Romelle says for me, and for a second it's like I'm not dying, and Romelle and I are just pitched outside my crush's house and everything's alright.

I grin. I'm ready.

I take off my seatbelt and sigh. "Yep."

I always hated goodbyes, and I've told Romelle this. She gives me a simple salute and lets me get out of the car, just in time to see three people pile out of the other car and to hear one of them call my name as he falls to the concrete.


	24. --lance

A cab is pulled up to the house when we get home. My heart starts racing, and I get out of Hunk's car so quickly I trip and fall on the road. I manage to call out Keith's name before I go down, but I can feel my knees crumple against the concrete and I know I've scraped my skin.

Not even a second after I fall, I see two pale hands covered by fingerless gloves being offered to me. I take them blindly and look up into one of the most attractive faces I've ever seen. It's Keith.

I use his hands to bring myself up into a standing position and find myself unable to look away from his face. He's got big, dark blue eyes lined with black eyeliner that make him look like a girl in the best way. They're narrowed in concern right now, accentuated by thick black eyebrows. His whole face is framed by jet black fringe -- he looks like some kind of emo prince. His profile picture did not do him justice.

My cheeks burn. I'm suddenly so embarrassed. "Uh, thanks," I say to him. My palms are sweating hardcore, so I take them back and wipe them on my jeans. "Sorry about my hands. I'm just nervous."

Keith smiles, something I wasn't expecting but that suits him. "It's no problem," he says. "Lance, right?"

I nod. "That's me. And you're Keith?"

Keith nods back. "Yep."   
He takes my hand back into his and I let him, disappointed when he shakes it. Wow, he must be as awkward as I am.

I clear my throat. "So, um, do you want to meet the others, and then we'll head out and do stuff?"

Keith tilts his head. "Sure."

Hunk and Pidge, who'd been standing around until this point, come over to scope out the situation, interrupting Keith from saying anything else. Hunk sticks out a hand.

"Hey," he says, "Keith?"

Keith takes his hand. "Yeah. Who wants to know?"  
  
Hunk frowns. "Lance's best friend. I'm Hunk."

"And I'm Pidge," Pidge buts in, sticking out her hand too. "You'd better treat Lance right, you hear?"

Keith looks at me then. "I will," he promises.

Gosh, I'm a sucker for that. My cheeks go even redder.

I laugh as the thought occurs to me that I might die with him, which isn't funny at all but really ironic. "I mean, that is, if I don't end up dying," I say.

Keith scratches the back of his neck. His black cardigan rumples with the movement. It's one of those cute long ones that my sisters wear sometimes, but that are so comfortable I sneak turns with them. "Yeah, I, uh, I hope not," he says.

"Me too." I agree. There's a silence then, an awkward one. Hunk and Pidge are looking at the floor, probably guilty or something. I clap my hands as loudly as I can and grin at them all to obliterate the quiet. "Let's go inside, then, so we can get goodbyes out of the way."  
I look at Keith. "I want to show you the beach."

Keith nods and we all go back inside the house. Keith's cab, which I hadn't realized hadn't left, sets off then and drives away. I don't miss Keith waving at the driver before he follows me up to the house.


	25. --keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is officially the spookiest month. Enjoy, guys ~

As soon as I touch Lance, helping him to his feet and meeting his eyes, I know I really am in love with him.

I want to ask if he's ok, but the words die on my tongue as I stare at him. He's got warm brown eyes and an angular jaw, light brown skin -- he's perfect. His profile picture does not do him justice.

His palms are sweaty, but mine are too, so I don't mind.

"Uh, thanks," he says. I like his voice. It's like the kind of voice that would come from a panicky guy, and that attracts me for some reason. "Sorry about my hands. I'm just nervous."

I smile. "It's no problem. Lance, right?"

Lance nods. His hair, a shorter fringe than mine and shorter in the back, moves slightly. "That's me. And you're Keith?"

I nod back. My fringe falls across my face -- I swat it back. "Yep."

I hold out my hand to him again and feel its warmth against my palm before lamely shaking it.

God, I'm such a moron.

Lance clears his throat then. "So, um, do you want to meet the others, and then we'll head out and do stuff?"

I shrug and tilt my head, not knowing exactly who the others are and sort of hoping it's not his family, because although I want to meet his family, I kind of want to get to know him rather than anyone else. "Sure."

Then two people I hadn't noticed before come over and one of them holds out his hand to me. He's about my height and looks to be my age. He's got vaguely Kiwi features -- dark skin and black hair with a body that's at the same time wide and buff. The other one, a small girl, has strawberry blonde hair tied into a short ponytail and a pointed face with freckles across her nose -- she's also got huge round glasses on that look too big for her face.

They're both staring at me intensely, like they're about to stage an intervention.

"Hey. Keith?" the Kiwi guy asks.

I shake his hand. "Yeah. Who wants to know?"   
Yeah, that was a mistake. The guy frowns and pulls his hand away.

"Lance's best friend. I'm Hunk."

Man. Now I'm probably on his hit list. But damn, if he isn't a hunk. I'm tempted to say how fitting his name is, but I hold back.

The smaller one interjects, "And I'm Pidge. You'd better treat Lance right, you hear?"

I look to Lance, who's staring back at me.   
"I will," I promise.

Lance grins and then laughs a little. His laugh is the most beautiful thing. "I mean, that is, if I don't end up dying." he says.

I fall silent. My hand reaches to scratch at my neck awkwardly. "Yeah, I, uh, I hope not."   
I feel even more weirded out by the concept of death now, when I'm inches from it. I don't want to think about it at all. I think I'm still in denial, but I'm not sure. 

"Me, too." Lance says. Then he claps his hands loudly, like a jerk, and grins. I jump. "Let's go inside, then, so we can get goodbyes out of the way."

He looks at me then, and I feel my cheeks warm. "I want to show you the beach." he says. That sounds like the most romantic thing in the world right now. I nod in response, and turn briefly to wave at Romelle before she sets off and I follow Lance into the house.

\--

The inside of Lance's house smells like food, which is something I'm not used to. I don't remember the last time I walked into a house and felt invited like this -- food has a way of bringing people together. It's an overused cliche, but it's true. I remember when Adam used to bring over his cooking and I felt so happy to have a family with him and Shiro. Now that that's gone, I had forgotten what this felt like. Until now.

I look around and see a lot of people who all look like Lance but of various ages and genders. They freeze when they see him walk in.

Lance takes me by the hand like we're old friends or lovers and pulls me to him. "Guys, this is Keith," he says to his family. I look to the ground in embarrassment. "He's my Last Friend."

The room explodes with chatter then -- everyone's faces break out into wide grins and they all come over to meet me.

A short lady who I assume to be Lance's mother comes over first, and pulls me into a hug before I can say anything. I freeze. I don't think I've ever been hugged by a woman, much less a mother. It's actually really nice and makes me feel comforted. My arms wrap around her after my initial shock.

"It's nice to meet you, sweetheart," she's saying. I smile and try not to balk at the loss of contact when she lets me go. "Oh, so handsome! Lance, isn't he handsome?"

I laugh, looking over at Lance in time to see him blush. My cheeks are warm too, so I don't mind. "Thank you, Mrs. McClain," I tell her. I remember Lance's last name from his Last Friend profile. I don't know how I do.

Mrs McClain flaps a hand the way adults do to show they don't care. "Oh, sweetheart, call me Liliana. If you're a friend of Lance's, then you're a friend of ours."

I nod. "Thank you, Liliana."  
It feels weird to call her by her first name, even though I never called Shiro or Adam anything other than their names. I remember being younger and having a lot of kids confused about why I never called them "Dad". After awhile I just stopped bothering telling them Shiro and Adam weren't my dads, because everyone thought they were and it was exhausting dissuading them.

Just then the rest of Lance's family comes over to me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

In the next twenty minutes, I meet all of Lance's siblings --

Fiercely protective Veronica holding her nephew on her lap; then Luis, who looks like he's falling asleep but who I can tell is also mourning by the tears in his eyes; then Marco, who's crying happy tears when he meets me; then Rachel, who's even more protective than Veronica and also has a degree of sass shared by Lance.

By the time I've met everyone, it's about 2:30, but I don't say anything because I don't want to cut this short.

It's Lance who puts a hand on my elbow and pulls me toward the door. "It's getting late, guys. We should go." he says.

I watch his mother approach him -- cautiously, like she's afraid to. Her face shows her heartbreak. Her hands reach out slowly and then all at once she grabs him in her arms and starts crying as soon as she touches him. "Be safe," she's telling him. My heart hurts for her. I look at her over his shoulder and tell her,

"I promise I'll make sure he's safe."

She nods tearfully, kissing Lance on the head. Her hands hold his face and she wipes away his own tears. "Te amo, Lance. Te amo."

I don't know Spanish, but I do know enough that I can hear the "I love you" in that. I don't remember the last time someone told me they loved me. Probably Shiro before he left to fly his first plane that day. The makes my stomach hurt with the familiar guilt that I have for letting him go.

Liliana finally lets Lance go, but then he's submerged in the rest of his family in a giant group hug that includes his friends.

I watch them, happy for them. It's nice to see them all together. I'm glad Lance has this.

I don't expect to be pulled in by Lance. 


	26. --lance.

Once we're out of the house, I grab Keith's hand. My face is still wet with tears. I'm embarrassed that I'm crying in front of him when I really just met him, so I laugh.

"Wow. Half an hour into knowing me and you can already see I'm a mess," I say, laughing.

Keith shakes his head. His eyes are dark, and he squeezes my hand. "No. You're not. Not at all."

My breath catches. Are we going too fast? Or is there a such thing on the day you're going to die? We kind of have to form a relationship usually forged in a lifetime, in a single day. And we're already holding hands. I'm feeling an intense headiness, like I can throw all caution to the wind and not think about it, I can act on whatever I'm feeling right now and it'll be alright.

I look at Keith and smile. "Thanks, man." I say, effectively destroying my train of thought with my hetero complex.

Yeah, I should not have said that. Damn it. Fuck.

But Keith grins back at me, a shaky, cautious grin, like it's been a while since he's smiled.

Wow, he's hot. I can see his pecs under his shirt. I look away, face on fire. "We should probably get to the beach," I say.

Keith nods. "Sure."

We start walking, me guiding him, him trailing a little ways behind me.

"You know," he says, hands deep in his pockets, "I don't think I've ever been to a beach before in my life."

I grin. "Well, it's your lucky day, then. Because Malibu beaches are the best frickin beaches in the world."

It takes me literally five minutes to get to our beach when I go by myself, but it takes me and Keith more like twenty because of the pacing and how much we're talking. Keith doesn't say much really, but he still says more than I had expected him to say.

I tell him more about my family and he tells me a little bit about his brother's fiancé Adam, how the guy had sort of taken Keith in for a while after some  
accident he won't tell me much about. I don't want to pry, so I don't, and instead tell him more about myself because honestly I can't stop talking and I feel like he appreciates not having to spill. It's the way he's looking at me as we're walking, I guess. He's got a smile on his face that makes me feel like I'm literally the only guy on the planet he wants to talk to right now.

We get to the climbing rocks that overlook the beach, next to the toll booth for admission that's long been abandoned. I look back at Keith and offer him a hand.

"It's kinda slippery here. If you're a first timer, you should hold onto me." I tell him.

Keith looks at my hand a bit before taking it. His hand is sweaty, like it was when I'd first met him. I pull him close to me and place the other hand on his back. He looks at me expectantly.

"Okay, now just grip the rock and use it to climb down to the sand on the other side," I tell him. Heaven forbid we end up slipping and dying here.   
My grip on him tightens, and I feel a tight back under his shirt. A sudden desire to see him take off his shirt takes me by surprise, bringing with it a mad rush of colour to my cheeks.

I block that out for the moment. There's always time for those kinds of thoughts on the actual beach, where I can bare myself to him even more.

He's scaling the rocks carefully, feeling his way around each one. At the moment where he can jump to the sand, I let go of his back and am relieved to see him make it no problem. He turns back to me and gives me a cute thumbs-up.

I grin back, exhaling a breath I didn't know I'd been saving. "Okay. Here I come."

My trip down the rocks is a cinch, but I want to make sure I don't kill myself this time so I take it slow and jump when I'm closest to the ground, landing and wobbling so Keith reaches out to catch me. I huff, thanking him and grasping his arms to keep myself upright before standing up, giving him a flustered smile and walking further down the beach.

Keith follows after me, looking out at sea. The water is beautiful -- shiny and blue. This is the perfect time of day to be here at the beach. It's just before high tide, with the waves just lapping and not crashing yet. I bend down to undo my laces and take my running shoes off, tossing them and my socks to the side and relishing the feeling of sand between my toes.

Keith keeps his boots on but watches me as I face the sky and breathe out. This is the most serene I ever am, at the beach. Even on my way out, it calms me down. I'm lucky to be here without any other people here.

"Do you… uh, do you come here a lot?" Keith asks.

"For sure," I say, still closing my eyes. The sun is especially warm right now, but pleasantly warm -- not burning, not breezy. "I love the beach."

Keith doesn't say anything for a while, and it's only when I open my eyes again a little while later that I see he's started skipping rocks on the water. I rush to him and watch him -- he's pretty good.

"How do you know how to skip rocks so well if you've never been to a beach?" I ask, incredulous.

Keith shrugs and kneels down to pick up another stone by his feet. He throws this one and it skips about five times. He's taken off his cardigan and I can see his muscles even better defined under his shirt. His back is the most attractive thing I've ever seen. His muscles are straining and pulling taut and I can see freckles just above where the neckline of the shirt dips off -- he's so attractive.

Am I catching feelings for him or am I just admiring his body?


	27. --keith.

I'm skipping rocks. I remember that park Shiro, Dad and I used to picnic at had a pond and Dad would teach me to skip rocks. After Dad died, Shiro started taking me to skip rocks. He wasn't as good as Dad was, but I don't think he cared. I think he was just trying to keep some of Dad alive for me. I used to laugh at him, how bad he was, because while Dad and I used to skip rocks, Shiro would practice his martial arts. I remember him taking all sorts of martial arts, and me being jealous that I was always too little. Later on, after Dad died, Shiro signed me up for Sword-Fighting and Knife-Wielding lessons. I only kept them up until a week after Shiro fell into the coma.

I pat my pocket now, feeling the Swiss Army knife jingle against the fabric of my pants. Its presence is reassuring to me -- kind of like one last part of Shiro I'm holding onto, because I won't be able to go back to that hospital before I die. Realizing this makes my gut wrench, and I look down.

"Hey, man. Are you alright?" Lance asks. I suddenly remember he's here too.

He's coming close to me from behind. I feel his hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, I just… I just realized I'm not going to be able to go back and see my brother again before I die." I say. Lance doesn't know Shiro's unconscious yet. Should I tell him?

Lance's grip loosens slightly. His next words are soft. "Look, you're not stuck here. If you want to go back, you can."

Those words obliterate any doubts I had about trusting him. I turn and look him in the eyes. "Nah, he's, he's in hospital, so. I'm okay. I said bye to him before I left."  
I try to smile at the end so it won't sound so harsh, but Lance still gets a concerned look on his face.

"Is he okay? What's he in the hospital for?"

I clear my throat. "He's been in a coma for the past year,"   
That's all I'm saying about that. I can't say any more. I can already feel myself tensing up.

Lance is quiet for a bit, but when he speaks again I know he's sincere. "I'm sorry."

"That's ok," I say. "Knowing Shiro, he probably would rather have gotten into a coma doing what he loved than never living at all."

Lance's face contorts in a mix of curiosity and confusion. "Okay, now I have to know what he did."

I shrink a little. I can't really help it. Is that too personal, telling Lance what happened to render Shiro unconscious?

"Uh, well, he loved to fly," I say. "He would fly helicopters and stuff, but that day was the first time he was going to get to fly a plane. He crashed it and ended up in hospital."   
I say the whole thing without making eye contact, because I know I'm leaving out stuff, stuff that's inarguably important to the story. If Shiro hadn't had that spasm, he never would have crashed and he would be here today. He probably would have flown with me to Cali because he's just that chill. That, and he'd want to look out for me.

But Lance seems to accept what I've said. He nods. He's probably afraid to say anything and trigger me, like most people. I can live with that. "Well, I'm sure Shiro would be proud that you're here and not stuck back in Texas." he says, with a grin that just about makes me fall for him twice as hard.

"Yeah," I nod, because it's true. I hope. I hope that when Shiro wakes up he'll be happy that I spent my last hours somewhere else, and went on an adventure.

There's some stones left in my hands. I shift them so they bounce and clatter. The noise takes me back to skipping stones with my dad.

Just then I feel cool water hit my neck. Looking back, I see Lance's gleeful smirk and the way it spreads to show creases in his cheeks. They're handsome creases, beautiful creases, like dimples but wider. I love them.

I grin and rush to splash him back.

We end up laughing and screaming and wading out deeper and deeper in the water to get more ammunition. We get soaked, but I don't mind it at all. I don't think anyone my age has ever considered whether I have fun or can be playful -- maybe they mistake it for a competitive vibe. It's nice that Lance sees through my angst and thinks that I might just be a kid on my last day of life who wants to have at least a little bit of fun before I go out.

By the time we're done we drag ourselves up the beach and lie on the sand on our backs. The sand warms up our wet clothes. I close my eyes, panting.

"That was great," Lance says. He's breathing hard too. "You're actually fun, emo."

I chuckle. "Was that meant to be a compliment?"

"Maybe."

I open my eyes and turn on my side to look at him. He really is hot. The water and sun seem to have just touched up his hair as opposed to messing it up -- he looks like a model. His nose and ears and mouth and eyes are all beautiful, and I want to kiss him. I want to do it, right now. Just out of the blue.

But is he into guys?

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask, trying to be casual.

"No," Lance says. "I don't. Why?"

I shrug. How do I ask him…?

"I, uh, I think I like girls and guys," he says, out of the blue. "Like, both?"

I nod, relieved. "That's called being bisexual." I tell him. "You've never heard of it before?"

Lance shakes his head. "Nope."

I clear my throat, and then silence descends upon us. Great. Even though I know he likes guys too, I still don't know if he's into me in particular. I can't ask him. I can't kiss him.

I'm at a crossroads. 


	28. --lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it!! 
> 
> I'm thankful that this has gotten the positive attention it has gotten :)

I'm waiting for Keith to kiss me, because he's asking all these questions about whether I have a girlfriend or if I'm into guys… I can kinda tell he likes me. I like him too. I think he's hot. He's got a cute, lower-pitched voice that cracks when he's nervous, and his hair is amazing.

I decide that if he's not going to kiss me, I'll touch his hair. Just to see what it feels like.

I lean over on my side and face him, then reach out one hand and bury it in his hair. _Wow_. It's _so soft_.   
Keith scrutinizes me, his face flushing. "What are you doing?" he asks, and his voice cracks.

I smile and paw at his scalp. "Geez, what conditioner do you use?" I ask. The motion is sort of lulling me into a more relaxed state, and I feel like falling asleep and kissing him both at the same time.

"Maybelline," Keith answers, without hesitation. He says it so fast it makes me laugh and bury my hand in deeper.

"Wow, I thought maybe you were born with it." I say. He doesn't get it.

"No, why would I be born with a full head of hair?"

I shake my head. "Never mind."

"Why, what conditioner do you use?" he asks.

He reaches across and runs his hand over my hair, feeling its silkiness. "Top secret," I tell him. "It's a family recipe."   
Really, it's just avocado and egg as a mask every two weeks, but he doesn't have to know that. For all he knows, I have the antidote for every hair ailment in my bathroom.

"Jerk," Keith mutters.

I pause, smirking, and turn over onto my back again.   
"Yeah, well, I'll be a dead jerk soon enough."

Keith gets quiet then, only acknowledging that he's heard me with a "Yeah,". I wonder if he's scared to die. I wonder if it's harder without his brother here to reassure him. I don't know what Shiro's like, but if he's anything like my siblings, he would have given Keith a million hugs and cried all over him. I wonder if Shiro's fiancé did the same thing.

"How do you think we're gonna go?" Keith asks then. His voice doesn't startle me at all -- in fact, it sorta matches the quiet serenity of the beach. It's deep and raspy and sort of comforting, like the waves lapping against the shore and seagulls cawing in the sky. I wish I'd heard it all my life.

I turn to face him again. His face is guarded, but I know he's scared. His voice cracked. "I don't know," I say, because I honestly don't know. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone to read the time. "It's four o'clock. We've still got 8 hours until midnight."

At this moment my mind runs wild -- in flashes there's things I've never done and will never be able to do. I've never driven a car by myself -- not including those times Dad or Luis would hold me on their knee and let me steer -- and I'll never get to do it. I've never been to a club, never gotten a hangover, never jumped a fence, never ridden a motorcycle, never kissed anyone.

"We've gotta do as much as we can." I tell Keith, and he nods.

"What do you have in mind?" he asks.

I grin. "Well, what have and haven't you done?"

Keith sits up then, and I follow suit. Sand was getting in my ears. He shakes the sand out of his hair.

"Uh, I rode a motorbike to the airport," he starts.

"You did?"

"Yeah, it was Shiro's."   
Keith trails off then, like he just now realizes that that motorbike is going to stay in that airport parking lot forever.

I take the cue. "What else?"

"I know how to properly use a knife for self-defense," he continues. Figures. "Um, I've drawn before."

I lean over, interested. Wow. It's like he's the whole package. "You draw? Are you good?"

Keith blushes then, I can see it on his cheeks. His hand goes to brush the back of his neck. I've made him nervous, huh.   
"Uh, I don't know. And you're never going to get to see my drawings anyway."

I nod. "Yeah, I guess not. I mean, do you still draw? Can you draw me something here?"

Keith looks at me for a few seconds and then shrugs. "Sure. All I need is paper and a pencil."

I click my tongue, standing. "Gotcha. I'll be right back."

With that, I leave Keith sitting on the beach, probably fucking confused.


	29. --keith.

_Where the fuck did he go?_

Lance is only probably going to get paper, but I feel so alone on this beach suddenly -- and vulnerable. I could get shot or something out here and nobody would ever know.   
  
Nah, but that's not a realistic death. Most likely I'd drown in the tide and be carried out to sea. Or I could suffocate in sand. I stand. I think I'd rather be upright, where the sand can't get in my airways.

I look around the beach, pleased to see it's still empty of people. The sun is starting to descend over the water -- it's casting rays of orange and pink over the water and turning the sky around it dark. I always loved sunsets.

I squint and block my face from the glare. It's still blinding, even though it's getting darker.

All of a sudden I start to wonder what kinds of things Lance has done. Has he done more stuff than me? I don't know -- I don't think so. Many of the things teenagers our age are doing don't look like they'd blow over too well in Lance's house. His mom is loving but stern.

Does he want to go clubbing? Is that really one of the things we should be doing on our way out? I mean, I've never gone clubbing and I think it would be cool but it's pretty risky today.

I wish I had sunglasses.

\--

Lance comes back in ten minutes. I squint at him as he's running back, a pad of paper in one hand and two black pens in the other. "This is all I could get," he tells me, offering me the pad and one of the pens.

"Is it from your house?" I ask.

Lance shakes his head. "Nah, I went to our neighbours."

I nod and click on the pen. I sit on a broad rock next and lean over the pad, thinking about what to draw. There's waves and sand and shoes and rocks and -- Lance.

God, Lance is so beautiful from this angle. His jawline is making my heart throb.

"Uh, can I draw you?" I ask shakily.

Lance turns to me and grins. "Sure!"

I blink. And begin. For ten minutes I lightly sketch Lance and try to make him look as amazing as I see him now. I draw the curve of his cheekbones and his beautiful jawline and feel a pang of sadness that I can't flesh out how amazing and shiny his chocolate-brown eyes look in the light of the late afternoon sun.

I turn it around and show it after awhile of Lance bugging me to finish, and watch his face go blank. My heart drops.

"Uh, Lance?"

Lance stares at the sketch, scrutinizes it. I really hope he doesn't critique it.

"Keith, this is the best selfie I've ever seen." Lance says. "It makes me look even more beautiful than I actually am."

I chuckle. "I don't think that's possible," I let slip, and there's about five seconds of solid silence between us before I clear my throat.

"Uh, sorry. That's awkward."

Lance tilts his head. "Why is it awkward? You think I'm beautiful, Mullet?"

Oh, God. I pause. But honestly, really, does it matter? In a split second I decide it doesn't.   
"Yeah. I do. Handsome, beautiful, whatever."

It's weird -- I'm getting closer and closer to him and I don't even feel myself walking. "Does it matter?"

Lance grins. "Yeah, it matters. It matters because now I know how you feel. You like me."

"I like you. You're my friend."

"No. You _like_ , like me. As more than a friend. Dude, bros don't tell each other they're beautiful. Plus, your face is super red right now."

Damn it. I bend over and look at the sand, hands in my pockets. "So I like you," I say to the sand. "So what?"

"So maybe I like you back," Lance says, and I just about faint.


	30. --lance.

"So maybe I like you back," I tell Keith without thinking. I watch him and see him go even redder than before. It's cute how he's so nervous. I've never seen a bad boy flounder. I grin at him.

"Uh," Keith stutters. "You do?"

I nod. "Yeah. You gonna kiss me or what?"

The temptation to kiss Keith is so strong now -- I couldn't have stopped those words coming out if I tried. I expect Keith to rush at me and ravage my lips, but instead he looks down at the sand again.

"I've never actually kissed anyone," he admits. The wind is starting up again, picking his hair away from his face. He looks back up at me to gauge my reaction and I can't help but think he looks beautiful too, both feminine and masculine at once.

I shrug. I've kissed other people, but I'm still not that good at it. Besides, if I'm better at it than he is, I can teach him, and that should be fun. "Well, do you want to?" I ask. There's always the possibility that he might not want to be kissed today, maybe because it's our last day of life and he would have wanted to experience it and remember it for the rest of his life.

But Keith nods. "Oh, _God_ , yes."

Something about the intensity in his eyes when he says that excites me. I grin as he gets closer, still wrapped in that black sweater thing and bathed in the light of the pink sun. I'm wondering why he still has it on right as he's taking it off, letting it flutter in the cool wind and spray of the sea as he lays it down on the sand. When I look back over all I see are his arms, and how built he is. Gosh, he's hot. He's not too buff, not too big, but his muscles are prominent and I bet they're hard.

And when he finally gets close to me and takes my face in his hands, all I can think is how strong he is, how sure he is, that he wants this. He might not have ever kissed anyone, but he's going to try today. I know I have a dopey grin on my face right now. I can't control it. My heart is pounding, I'm tingling from head to toe, and then --

He kisses me. His lips are warm but tight, and the minute I feel them on mine my mouth drops open to taste him.

It's easily one of the most intense kisses I've ever experienced. I anchor myself on his forearms and he moves his hands to my shoulders and then we're so close, glued together, and he's a natural at this. He's going slow but I'm speeding up -- I want to see if he can keep up.

He proves he's more than capable; he opens his mouth wider -- he's going as fast as I am, and then I'm french-kissing for the first time in my life. It's not nearly as gross as I thought it was. It feels amazing. His lips are so warm and this is so intimate -- every second his hands are reaching lower on my body but mine only glide down to his waist, pulling him closer. His stomach muscles are taut and his hips are sharp under my fingers as he tightens his grip on me.

We come apart with that satisfying, beautiful noise that happens at the end of every movie kiss, making it perfect. I pause for a second afterwards, breathing hard and staring at the ground, but then I end up pulling Keith to me again, letting my body take over. 


	31. --keith.

Lance's lips feel like warm tea running over my mouth -- familiar and sweet and hot. He kisses me again after we pull apart the first time and my heart is pounding, I'm clutching at his thighs and then lower, down to his --

He makes a noise that goads me to hold him tighter, while he, himself, pulls away from my lips and starts sucking on my neck. I tilt my head back and let my breaths pour through my mouth in gasps. "Damn," I pant. "Mm, I --"

"Don't talk," Lance says to me, murmuring around my goosebumps and making more crop up. He's going lower and lower on my neck and I hold him tighter to me until he gets to my chest. I want him to take my shirt off. I want to take _his_ shirt off.

I move my hands to his stomach, reaching for the brim of his shirt as my lips connect with his again. He lets me pull his shirt over his head and then throw it to the sand. My hands roam all over his body before reaching around to hold him and bring him closer to me. His hands come up to cradle my face.

We pull apart again after that, and I look into Lance's eyes, breathing hard. "I wish I'd known you before today," I tell him. "I would have kissed you so many times."

In response Lance doesn't say anything, he just sits down. I sit beside him and take my shirt off, leaning over to capture his lips again and hold his face in my hands. He ends up on top of me -- this position is so intimate and I feel like I could do anything. Lance is leaning over me -- I can feel his hair wisping in the wind, around my fingers, and I tug on it swiftly, drawing a hum from him.

He looks into my eyes when we pause again, and grins. "You're such a good kisser," he tells me. "Sure you haven't done this before?"

I shake my head. "I guess you're showing me how to do it right."

"Guess I am," Lance says, and leans over to kiss me again before getting up and offering a hand to me. I take it and stand then sit back down on the sand. "So, do you want to spend the rest of the day here, or do you want to check out the city?"

I think about this. It's weird -- I kind of forgot about the city here at the beach with Lance. Maybe being with him displaces time. I feel an absence now that his lips aren't on mine anymore, like I've already gotten used to the feeling of him.

"Whatever you want to do," I say, though I would love to stay here on the beach and die in his arms.

Lance grins. "I could show you around the city," he says. His tone is suggestive. My heart leaps. "There's a lot of stuff to see in Malibu."

"What time is it?" I ask, starting to emerge from my Lance-induced haze. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. 4:30. "It's going to be dark soon."

Lance shrugs. "Yeah, you're right. So what do you want to do?"

I sigh, jamming my hands back into my pockets. My gaze falls on the pad of paper Lance had brought me before, the pen rolling across the surface of it in the slight breeze. "I could draw more pictures for you, I guess." I suggest. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve -- I used to draw a lot when I was in elementary school. Mostly it was objects and other things -- I graduated to sketches of people when I got to high school. If I could, I'd sketch Lance for the last remaining hours of our day. I could look at him forever.

Lance grins again, the close-mouthed one that makes marks in his face and makes me want to pull him to me and kiss them off his face. "Sure," he says. "Okay."

I pull the pad to me and set to work. 

 


	32. --lance.

I kind of watch over Keith's shoulder as he draws stuff -- he does the shore, dotting the sand in the picture with little pen marks; he does some rocks and some gulls and a far-off house behind us. It's quiet except for the sounds of the waves coming in, and Keith's bent over, completely focused. I watch his face for a bit too -- his eyes are narrowed; he's frowning at the page like it's an essay he's scribbling out last minute for English.

I laugh and he looks up, just about done a drawing of a hand. "You're so lost," I say, and it's a good thing. He's lost in the drawings, lost in the magic of his artwork. "Damn, I wish I could draw like that."

He reddens, and I can tell, because there's little to no light around us and his cheeks are dark. "I-- uh, well, practice." he offers.

I sit down next to him and kiss him. He's so awkward, even now. He puts down the pad and pauses.

"So what do you want to do now? Do you want to go into town? We could do karaoke."

"Karaoke?" I ask. I love karaoke. "Where did that come from?"

Keith shrugs. "I guess I thought it's something you'd wanna do."

"You think I can sing?" I ask. Not many people know I can actually sing, only Hunk and Pidge know. It's only something I reveal to people once I've known them a long time. I smile. I feel like I could sing around Keith, with reckless abandon.

"Sure." Keith says.

"Alright." I agree. "Let's go."

I reach over and pull him up from the sand, feeling the sand and wet on his palms from the sea. I grab his pad of paper in one hand and his hand in the other and we set off.


	33. --keith.

I wish I could have taken Lance to the karaoke place on my motorbike.

Well, Shiro's motorbike, but same diff.

I can just imagine the feeling of Lance holding onto me from behind, his slender arms and broad shoulders leaning into me as we take off into the night, across streets dancing with scattered light. But that would be a definite recipe for death.

No, instead, we take Lance's brother's car. It's a stickshift, which only his brother knows how to drive, and so it's a bit of a buzzkill when we have to climb in the back and buckle in. It's dark enough back there that I could probably make out with Lance and not get caught, but I don't want to take that chance. Plus, something about the warning look Luis gives me before we climb in makes me not want to try anything.

But then Lance kisses me, and I lose all control. Luis is driving and keeps looking in his rearview, but he really can't see. I think he does it more to scare me than anything else. I admire him as a big brother, honestly. I see a bit of both Shiro and Adam in him, but like the perfect medium. That thought makes me both upset and calm.

Lance's lips are on mine and I can't focus. I soon give in and get a hold on one of his long legs, gripping it while he kisses me deeper and longer. I breathe hard, craving him. He's like a drug, like nobody I've ever kissed before. God, he's amazing.

If I could, I would do so much more than kiss him right now.

But then Luis pulls up to the place and I scramble off Lance before the lights in the back of the car can go on. I know my cheeks are a dead giveaway though, so I prepare myself to be lectured or something. But instead, Luis smiles at us, and I get the vague feeling that he doesn't usually smile, because it looks weird on his face.

"You two have fun, alright?" he says. "Sing, don't drink, don't do drugs, don't have sex --"

"Luis. Shut up, man." Lance returns, and I see him blushing.

Luis is still grinning. "Come on. Get out of my car."

Lance nods. "Don't have to tell me twice."

I open the door and get out of the car, joining Lance on the other side once he's out too. I watch him and Luis say goodbye through the window, which is pretty quick, actually. I admire that. Goodbyes fucking suck.

Lance looks at me after Luis leaves, and I can see that his eyes are wet. I reach over and grab his hand in mine, not saying anything because I don't have to.

The place is buzzing when we get inside. There's mostly college kids on the couches in the middle of the room, with one of them taking over the mic to sing a very bad, drunken version of "Umbrella" by Rihanna. You don't need Simon Cowell to judge that trainwreck.

I grin and tell Lance this as we pass, to which he responds with open and blissful laughter. I love his laugh.

There ends up being another stage and mic stand in the back of the room, tucked away from the first scene. I go up to the guy manning the counter while Lance scopes out the equipment.

"Uh, we're Deckers," I tell him.

He looks up at me over his Vogue magazine. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says. "I can get you the lovers' discount if you'd like."

"What's that?"

"If one or both partners is dying, they get to sing two hours for free." the guy says. "Are you with that guy?"

I turn to look at Lance, who shoots me the peace sign back. I nod. "Yeah, I am."

When I get back to Lance I grab his face and kiss him to sell the story. Well, that and I just wanted to kiss the life out of him ever since he gave me that peace sign.

He's beautifully pink when we pull apart, and I grin. "We are as of now officially boyfriends." I tell him. "So sell the story. Grab my ass. Kiss me. Fuck me. I don't care."

Lance raises an eyebrow. "I might have to take you up on the offer to fuck you." he says, and I feel an unmistakable horniness in my gut.

I grab his shirt and pull him close. "Keep that up, and I'll be the one fucking you." I murmur, so only he can hear it. He goes instantly red and nods.

"So, uh, what do you want to sing?" Lance asks, moving away from me to examine the machine. "I was thinking we could start with a classic Britney, and then move into maybe Sam Smith or a ballad?"

I look over the machine, shrugging. "I don't know. Sounds like you know a lot about music, though."

Lance grins. "When you're a McClain kid, you can't not know music."

I think back to our text conversation and smile. "Sara Bareilles and Beyoncé?"

He nods. "Yeah. For sure. Do you want to--?"

"Don't you want to sing one on your own first?" I ask, partly because I'm too much of a wimp to be the first to sing. Mostly because I want to fall in love with Lance's singing and not have my own voice prevent that.

He shrugs, smiling uncertainly. "I could do Lucky, by Jason Mraz?"

I think I know that song. Honestly, it could be Apple Bottom Jeans and I'd still be head over heels. "Sure." I say.

Without a word he turns to set up the song, and takes a minute to figure out how to put it on. I watch him carefully and then the screen behind him lights up as the music starts up.

It's a familiar guitar chord, and I think I know it, but I'm positive as soon as Lance starts singing. " _Do you hear me, I'm talking to you, across the water, across the deep blue, ocean under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying_ …"

God, his singing voice is even prettier than his talking voice. He looks at me as he sings, and I just stare at him, and I have absolutely no control over what I do next.

I've never listened to this song more than once, so I don't know how I start singing the next part, the girl part, but it comes out of me and doesn't sound too bad. " _Boy, I hear you, in my dreams. I feel you whisper, across the sea, I keep you with me, in my heart, you make it easier when life gets hard…_ "

Lance closes his eyes as we harmonize the next part, and everything is perfect right now. I completely forget about the fact that we're Deckers and a liability, that we could both die here and now -- it all flies out of my mind. The chorus of the song is about falling in love with your best friend and how lucky that is, which I can't relate to because Lance is neither my best friend nor is it lucky that I'm in love with him now. But I get sucked into it, and I go with it.

" _They don't know how long it takes, waiting for a love like this. Everytime we say goodbye, I wish we had one more kiss, I wait for you, I promise you, I will…_ "   
My heart hurts. I feel like crying.

My hands fly up of their own accord and I pull Lance to me, cutting off his next verse with my lips. The music goes on uninterrupted, filtering through my thoughts. I grip him harder and twist him closer to me, feeling my muscles bulge, then feeling Lance put his hands gently on my arms, as if he's unsure whether he can or not. You can. Of course, you can.

I push him away as the song's ending, practically spitting out, "I love you,"   
It's only then that I realize I'm actually crying.

Lance stares at me, stunned. He looks like he's been slapped in the face.

I rub my eyes. "Oh, God, I don't know why I said that --" I start to say, cheeks burning.

"I love you too, Keith," Lance says.

I look up. "What?" 


	34. --lance.

"I love you," I repeat, and my heart's going wild. Keith's staring at me like I'm a gold nugget and he's a poor farmer. "I know it's fast, but,"

"We're dying today," Keith interrupts. "I think you're okay."

Then he smiles at me, a warm, in-love smile. "I wish I knew about you sooner."

I reach over and grab his hand. "Me too. Let's sing another duet. I don't want this to be sad."

Keith nods, turning to the machine. "Do you want me to choose, or--"

I shrug. "Yeah. Whatever."  
If the songs he was talking about when we first texted tell me anything, it's that he probably has damn good taste in music. The boy likes Beyoncé. That's just common sense.

He taps the screen a few times, and I realize he's putting on a bunch of songs. I grin. "I already can't wait,"

Keith grins, and this time it's sheepish and sort of uncertain. I don't know why, but I like that look on guys. I think it's cute. "Well, I hope you like them."

When the music for "If I ain't got you" by Alicia Keys starts playing, I know for damn sure I'm definitely in love with this guy.

I'm about to raise the mic to my mouth and sing but all of a sudden, I smell smoke. I sniff a few times and look around. The music goes on playing.

"What's wrong?" Keith asks, wrinkling his nose.

"I... smell smoke," I say. "Don't you?"   
I start to think maybe I'm in denial and this is some wacky symptom of a brain tumour, but Keith nods slowly.

"I smell it too." he says.

Right away, before I know I'm doing it, I rush back over to the bar and tell the bartender. Before I can get the words out, the fire alarm starts going and I start to hear sirens, and then everything happens all at once.

There's a burst of orange and heat underneath the kitchen door, and people are running for the exit. I get back to Keith and start to run too, but then I'm knocked backwards and I instantly black out. The last thing I hear before I hit the ground is Keith's voice calling my name twice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this was overdue! Sorry, guys. 
> 
> Ooh, also, happy birthday to Keith on the 23rd!!! Can't believe my bby grows into a grizzled ponytail boy!! Those leaks though, amirite?


	35. --keith.

I almost don't expect to come to. It's kind of like waking up from sleep, like I was in a deep state of unconsciousness. I'm aching all over. It feels like one giant bruise all over my body. It's cold and dark, and I realize I'm on the ground outside. I push myself up, alarm bells ringing when my senses start to come back to me and I see ambulances and fire engines in the vicinity, remembering with a jolt both that I'm supposed to die today, but also that I came here with someone.

"Lance," I say, and it's raspy and almost not there, and then I feel a panic so powerful it almost rips me open, and I yell his name this time.

Bright orange teases the edge of my vision, so I turn and see flames and smoke rising up out of the building, so hot I can feel it warming me, so strong I can smell it. I start to cough and it's full of phlegm, like a whooping cough, the one Dad used to tell me and Shiro he got as a kid. I sound like a seal, but I don't care. My throat's pinching up at the same time and it's so hard to breathe -- I can't go back in there. If Lance is still in there --

I don't expect to crumple then, fall in on myself, and just sob and cough intermittently. This can't be it. He can't have been the first to die. Everything he tells me comes back in flashes, and his face is there, smiling, one of the most amazing people I've ever met even though I only knew him for a day. With this I guess I start to accept his death even though my mind's rejecting it. I convince myself he's dead. Or maybe I didn't need much convincing in the first place.

I can't even taste his lips anymore. God, I wish I could.

I'm heaving with sobs, shaking. I can't do this.

I almost don't see the paramedic who comes up to me, and I don't hear him ask if I'm ok.

I shake my head because it's all I can do, and the paramedic is silent, just putting a hand on my back delicately like he thinks I'll fall apart if he presses any harder.

I look up then, and I swear I see Shiro.

Maybe I'm delirious with pain and trauma or maybe I just can't see either because of the tears or the smoke, but I can honestly see Shiro. I stare at him for a few seconds and start to wonder if he's an angel. Maybe this is my death.

No. I'm insane. I cough again to the side and slump over, the tears coming back again. "I think my friend's still in there," I say, actually choking on my words.

"Let me get you to an ambulance, okay, and then you can tell me." the guy replies gently, and he even sounds like Shiro.

Ambulances. For me, they represent death and hospitals and finality. Like, you can get into an ambulance and they probably already know what's going to happen.  
"I'm not going to the hospital," I tell him. "I'm not leaving."

I can see the guy nodding, like Shiro used to when he would compromise with me. He did that alot when I was younger, because he always said he could never turn me down. Adam was stricter with me.

"Let me just get you into the back of one. We won't go anywhere, we'll just get you on a breathing machine, alright?"

I nod. As long as we're not leaving. If there's even a chance Lance is still alive, I want to take it.

The guy leads me to one of the ambulances and I hoist myself up to sit on the perch in the back while the guy preps that mask that gives oxygen. I look closely at his face and see a definite resemblance to Shiro, which kind of makes me want to cry. I wish Shiro were here. I wish he'd woken up when I went to the hospital.

"So what does your friend look like?" he asks as he's adjusting the mask on my face.

I hunch over and tell him. How could I forget? Lance has these chocolate brown eyes that you can just see because they're so small, and this turned-up nose, and a smug grin, and the most exotic caramel skin I've ever seen. He's also tall and gangly and just so beautoful. The grin on my face as I tell the paramedic this almost makes me forget this fire thing happened, and that Lance might be dead.

The paramedic nods. "Name?"

"Lance," I say, almost in a whisper.

"Well," the guy says, turning to me with a weary smile. I realize he must be tired of having to tell people their loved ones have died. I never thought about it before. "I will try to find your friend for you, alright? Did he get the call today?"

"Yeah," I say, staring at my lap. "I did too."

"Let's hope he's alright." the guy says. "And what's your name?"

"Keith."  
I don't feel any sense of danger or that I should block this guy's helping me, maybe because he looks like Shiro. I trust him, and I feel like he's actually going to help me.

I watch him go, and hope that he doesn't come back only to show me a body bag with a 6-foot mass in it.


	36. --lance.

So. I'm alive.

I almost can't believe it when I open my eyes. When I actually open my eyes and I'm lying on the pavement with smoke overhead so thick I can see it and start coughing as soon as I get my breath back.

I cough and it's like the wind's knocked out of me, like I was punched in the chest by Thor or something, and my ribs hurt. Badly.

I try to sit up and manage to, and realize as I put my hands on the ground behind me that I'm in a parking lot. Of course. I came here with Keith.

The thought that he could still be in the burning building behind me hits me and shocks me, like it is impossible but at the same time, it could happen.

Gosh, he could be dead. He got the alert too.

The shock gives me the strength to stand up, and I rub my hands over my arms, feeling the hair stand up to my touch. It's cold out here. There's an ambulance not far from me -- its lights are flashing annoyingly bright. I go over to one of the paramedics without a game plan.

"Hi, uh,"   
Oh, crap. What do I even say?

The guy stares at me like I'm crazy as he waits for me to continue. I clear my throat.

"Are you alright?" he asks, cutting me off. His eyes are scanning me, and I realize I might be sooty and disoriented. Of course. I just narrowly escaped burning to death.

"I was just in there." I say, because I can't say anything else. There's no sadness in my voice, because I don't really feel anything right now.

The guy's eyes widen. He puts a hand on my shoulder and starts to lead me to the ambulance, explaining as he goes that he's going to have to insist I stay monitored.

I'm kinda too weak to push against him, so I just start to stammer, "I came here with someone."

"I can assure you we're doing everything we can to get everyone out," the guy replies, helping me up to sit in the back of the ambulance. He reaches for one of the masks on the wall and fixes it to my face, simultaneously draping a blanket around my shoulders.

"We both got the alert." I add. I can't even think of that stupid company now, but he seems to understand.

"Okay. What's his name?"

"Keith," I say, nodding. That's the only thing I can remember.

"Keith." the guy repeats. "I will do my best to try and find him, alright? There's a chance he's still alive and kicking."   
He offers me a nice smile then, and I'm reminded of the smiles my siblings used to give me, the nice, soft ones when we used to get along. It almost makes me cry, how much I long for my family right now. But at the same time, I hope this guy doesn't get a record on me and call them.

It doesn't take long for the guy to come back, and when he does, he's smiling confidently. My heart leaps and I pull the oxygen mask away from my face.

"Did you find him?" I ask, tripping over my words.

The paramedic nods. "He's in another ambulance a little ways away from this one. He's perfectly fine."

I want to jump down from this ambulance and run to Keith's. So I do. 


	37. -- Keith.

I see Lance and it's like he's an angel or something -- I don't really believe it. He's illuminated by the light of the fire of the building but as he gets closer he looks more and more sooty.

I squint, and the Shiro-paramedic steps sideways to look where I'm looking.   
"Lance?" I ask, my voice louder than I'd thought it would be.

"Keith!" he calls, and he's smiling, grinning, running so fast and he's almost at the back of the ambulance and I'm frozen, maybe I'm in shock, maybe I'm just so happy --

\-- but then I hear a peculiar popping noise, and I know for some reason, all of a sudden, that it's a gun firing, and then I know before I even look that it's Lance who got hit.

And then he falls. Right in front of me, with an expression on his face like confusion and betrayal and he looks down like in the movies, pressing a hand to his heart.

I crumple down from the ambulance, hitting my knees on the pavement. I don't even feel it, and I don't see Shiro running in the direction of the shooter and I don't see another paramedic call the police and I don't even notice the other one that's trying to put pressure on the wound. It's probably the best place he could get shot, but I know somehow that it won't all work out alright because why would it?

I'm fumbling to grab ahold of Lance or something and he's crying silently, gasping. I know he's in pain. What the fuck. This is so fucked up.

Then the paramedics bring over a gurney and they push me away from him. I yield even though I know I can't. And in my stupid, rash mind I feel so bitter and I hate that fucking shooter so much maybe because it all happened so fast and I really don't know why he decided Lance was a good person to kill today. He's not. He's literally one of the best people I've ever met. He's the greatest uncle, sibling, son, friend, and lover I've ever met and in that instant I want to hunt down and kill the fucker who just decided Lance was worth killing.

I stand up and run blindly out of the parking lot, in the general direction of where I'd seen Shiro dart. I can't really control it when I yell out, "I know you're here, you _fucker_! I'll kill you for shooting him! _I'll kill you_!"

I don't even see Shiro come out and grab me. I only notice him when he pulls me aside and I realize I'm crying.

"Keith, what are you doing?" he asks. Like I know what I'm doing. Sure. "Are you trying to get killed?"

"That fucking asshole shot him! In cold blood!" I shout, and I can't help it. This is majorly fucked up. "Tell me you got to him, please tell me you got him. I swear I'm going to kill him with my bare hands if you didn't."

Shiro looks like he knows how I'm feeling, not like I'm crazy or anything. "I called the cops. They should be here soon."

"That's it?"   
It's getting harder to breathe. "Is he loose?"

He doesn't say anything. "Look, they'll be here soon. In the meantime, your friend is going to hospital, they should be able to --"

"Didn't you hear me say it's his end day?!" I shout, my voice rising. "They won't save him, because he's going to die, and I'll die with him."   
I realize that's true now more than ever. Even if I don't die physically until hours after him, I will die with him. I feel like everything is too late. Like it's over. It's all over. I should've appreciated those last hours with him more.

I feel like dying right here, right now.

And then Shiro's phone starts ringing, and there's a leap in my heart, and I know somehow again, I wish I didn't.

"It's Lance, isn't it." I say, and now I'm just numb of feeling anything.

Shiro answers, looking at the ground, and his face gets tired. He sighs and hangs up too soon. "Yeah. It was."

I think I die right there.

I black out, and actually die.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the end for Keith and Lance :( I'm sorry to end it like this guys. Thanks for tuning in and enjoying! This truly has been a journey.


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